


Body sweet like sugar venom.

by dewlas



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: (not them though), Graphic Underage Relationships, Harry is a hoe, Lana del Rey AU, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Recreational Drug Use, age-gap, daddy!louis, harry is lana del rey, harry is legal, mentions of underage relationships, which is not too far from reality, which means...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-06 12:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 35,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12817380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dewlas/pseuds/dewlas
Summary: Harry is a twenty-one-year-old boy who grew up too fast and has an angel choir living inside his throat. Louis is the too hot for society’s good owner of a pub who kind of takes pity on him.(or the one where Harry’s Lana Del Rey, had a hard past, likes older man and Louis’ happens to be one of those)





	1. Off To The Races.

_ And I remember when I met him,  _

_ it was so clear that he was the only one for me. _

_ We both knew it, right away. _

_ As the years went on, things got more difficult, we were faced with more challenges.  _

_ I begged him to stay, try to remember what we had at the beginning.  _

_ He was charismatic, magnetic, electric and everybody knew it. When he walked in, every woman’s head turned, everyone stood up to talk to him.  _

The pub is empty with the exception of the employees who arrived earlier to arrange the place. They received him cheerfully barely taking a breath for him to introduce himself before being lead to the platform that is the stage.

It is a bit overwhelming seeing the place from that height, from where he will be able to appreciate every face, in case he gets selected for the job, but he supposes it is a good experience for what it is to come in the future, a future in which he will be playing in places much bigger than a New York pub.

Self-confidence is one of his best attributes, being often misplaced by narcissism (which it isn’t, there is a big difference between self-confidence and narcissism). He knows his attitude comes from a good place, from the ambition that will lead him to fame one day.

He puts the CD on the player with the backtracks recorded by himself in the recorder his uncles gave to him for his eighteenth birthday when he had recently moved to their house and they were constantly looking to spoil him to compensate the negligence of his own parents.

“Honey do you need something before he arrives? A glass of water? A vodka shot?” Wendy asks, fixing her blonde hair in a high bun.

“I’m alright, thank you.” He answers, stroking the ends of his curls, wondering if he should get one himself. It isn’t a harsh decision to make, knowing that to leave it loose would be the best choice. His hair is one of his best attributes and to hide it when he is trying to give a good impression would be a stupid decision. 

“Do you always dress like that?” She sits down in one of the closest tables to the stage, watching him carefully as if she is trying to analyze him just by his looks. He adjusts the microphone behind her stare to put it in the right height. 

He taps the mic with the tip of his finger, the red nail polish sparkling under the dim light that reflected on stage. “Is that a problem?” he asks in the microphone to sound check it, his voice resonating through the silence of the place.

Maybe he overdid his image for the sake of giving an astonishing first impression. Nervousness attacks him all over again, a feeling that oppressed him the whole week. His uncles made the situation even worse, reminding him every time they could how important this performance might be for his career, fearing he could lose the golden opportunity his uncle got him by having contact with the owner of the pub, who apparently, according to what he told him the night before, trying to find trivial conversations that could fill the jitters that surrounded the house, owned a great amount of them along the New York State, an empire he is planning to extend outside the borders.

Harry is nervous and he knows it is totally normal, just minutes away from performing in front of a man who probably witnessed hundreds of auditions from different people, a man who has stable bands and artists located in the rest of the city. He is just another one in the pile for him, but Harry would bet his life he is better than all of the acts the man ever saw without even having to watch their performances to corroborate his own words. He is better, with the soothing voice that could make any mortal fall for him, like a mermaid melody, accompanied with hypnotizing movements and his Medusa hair (like his old friends used to call him). He knows everything in him is mesmerizing, but maybe, this time, he went too far; leaving his belly exposed between a pair of golden sparkly trousers right below the laurels tattoos he has over his hips, and a black crop top that was once the belonging of an old conquest.

He looks appealing, on any other occasion he could have whoever he would like at his feet. But that isn’t why he is here today, he would give everything for a career, putting it first to anything. 

“What’s the problem?” A pitched voice asks, taking him out of this worries. 

Can he be here not  _ that _ professionally? Is the real question after finding the owner of the sound. 

He fits in every expectative Harry has over a man. At least ten years older than him, carrying his age with style and a body that, for what can be appreciated through the stormy-grey suit sculpted perfectly over his waist and every soft curve that created his body, is a labyrinth he is more than willing to explore anytime. A couple-of-days-beard cover a great part of his face, the perfect large to look neat (and going a little further, to scrape the skin of his thighs), and his brown hair styled backwards in a sixties kind of way. Harry’s favourite era is the sixties.

He gulps trying to look steady, going down the stage by the stairs in front of it, being careful not to trip with his own legs or to take a false step with his boots and make a fool out of himself in front of  _ that _ man.

“There’s no problem, Mr…” He assures, approaching at a slow pace, playing with the waist of his trousers.

“Louis Tomlinson.” Completes the man, his voice a tone down, not as thunderous as it was moments before. Harry isn’t sure how he likes it better.

“Louis Tomlinson, right. My uncle told me a lot about you, but I surely forgot to ask about that.”

“Good things, I hope.”

“Let’s not get into details.” He smiles, stretching his hand with the finesse characteristic of a woman. The man grabs it carefully, squeezing gently. His hands are cold, small under his, but still really solid, expressing his power through his actions. He sees how he gets lost in the detail of his manicure, his Caribbean blue eyes opening up more than normal, but not too much to be evident (still, Harry notices. He notices everything). It feels like a battle won over.  “Harry Styles.”

“Louis Tomlinson.”

“You already told me that, like five seconds ago.” Harry reminds him, stepping backwards, knowing for a fact how overwhelming his presence is being for the man.

Harry knows how to flip over even the most persistent of men. 

“So, Harry, impress me.” He declares, sitting down where the waitress was moments before, who apparently disappeared in the middle of their conversation.

“I hope I already have.” An innocent smile appears in his lips, hurrying to press play not to give him time to answer.

A sigh escapes his lips when he settles in front of the microphone. The music doesn’t give him time to get nervous, his stare travels directly to a pair of penetrating aquamarine eyes that watch him like they are under a spell. He has the place already in the palm of his hand, but a little more effort will definitely help to get a little bit closer to his goals.

_ My old man is a bad man,   
_ _ but I can’t deny the way he holds my hand  
_ __ and he grabs me, he has me by my heart.

Soothing sounds filled the place, his own voice resonating like an echo in every cell of his own body, and he could bet in every human being. It was like the air formed a fog around them, while he put his lip in between his teeth; his hips swinging subtly in a movement he had practised in the solitude of his room more times than he would admit out loud. 

_ He doesn’t mind I have a Las Vegas past,  
_ _ he doesn’t mind I have a L.A crass way about me,  
_ __ he loves me with every beat of his cocaine heart.

The man looks like he was suddenly transported to another dimension, where the world looks much more like a paradise. Harry puts his index finger in between his lips, looking away from the older man who couldn’t do the same with him even if he wanted to. 

There is more audience in the room watching him. The five employees who momentarily disappeared from his mind are forming a line at the back of the place; smug smiles and stares, which from the distance, seems like pure astonishment. 

_ Light of my life, fire of my loins  
_ _ be a good baby, do what I want  
_ _ light of my life, fire in my loins  
_ _ gimme them gold coins  
_ _ gimme them coins  
_ _ and I'm off to the races, cases  
_ _ of Bacardi chasers  
_ _ chasing me all over town  
_ _ 'cause he knows I'm wasted,  
_ _ facing time again at Riker's Island  
_ _ and I won't get out  
_ _ because I'm crazy, baby  
_ _ I need you to come here and save me  
_ _ I'm your little scarlet starlet  
_ __ singing in the garden

A proud smile appears in his own lips, practically feeling the shadow of his dimples that put the definite sign of all the work he has recently done. His eyes dart to Louis again, who stirs in the chair he is sitting in, taken with his guard down at having his attention back. His own smile turns into a smirk, itching in the corner of his lips at the temptation of expanding even more.

_ Kiss me on my open mouth  
_ _ ready for you. _

He sighs again, but that time is even louder than the first one, an exaggeration that gives the final touch to the performance, cutting the air as when the wind stops before a big storm. He stops the CD and comes back to his previous place, wrapping the microphone with his claws, smiling widely, getting a wave of applause that gets a laugh of satisfaction out of him. His future coworkers, if the look in Louis' eyes is something to go by, cheered loudly from the back, inflating his ego like a birthday balloon.  

“So…  did I pass the test? Or do I have to take it all over again?” He asks, his smile changing to a subtle one, a shy look that is totally pretended, only getting fast blinking as an answer, as if he is trying to take the image away from his retinas. 

“You better let him stay, Louis!” One of the boys exclaims, Harry can’t turn away to find which one of them was.

“He’ll totally increase the customers. Old men and young ladies? They’ll die for him.” A girly voice remarks, leading the man to shake his head in resignation. 

“You’re not his type. Were you listening to a single word he sang there?” 

“To be fair I was too caught up on his thighs.” She whispers, the failed secrecy making almost everyone in the room laugh.

“I have to admit that was really good, Harry.” Louis finally says the weigh-in his chest disappearing even if he didn’t know he was carrying it until that moment. 

It isn’t the best selection of words, Harry expected more, given that he has the necessity to impress him more than he has to impress anyone else, but it was enough at the moment if that meant there would be other chances to get the cards up his sleeves out.

“So can I call you boss from now on?” He insists, out of the mic, sitting at the edge of the stage, looking for a more private conversation. 

“How old are you?” He asks, putting one of his hands under his chin, giving him all the attention (nothing different from what he’s been doing since the moment he arrived) he has, with the tip of his tongue showing in between his lips, looking casually sinful. 

“I’m almost Twenty-one. In case you think I need to be older, I’m twenty-four and my name is Ethan Edwards.”

“You have a fake ID? Give me one good reason why I should hire you since apparently you like to break the law, which may bring me a lot of trouble.” He challenges him, the shadow of a smile barely showing on his face, the first glimpse of what it looks like one since he has set fo,ot there. 

Harry tastes the answer on his mouth, jumping off the platform, landing in his extensive legs with grace. He doesn’t miss the checkout he receives from the man, that lasts less than a second, looking like an expert in the arts of spying in the shadows.

“Success has three qualities, Mr Tomlinson. A great voice, an even greater look, and, the most important one, a killing attitude. And I invented all of them.”

He heads to the bar without looking back, where the five waiters were killing time. He slides in one of the stalls, willing to win over every person that is recurrent in the place, willing to make it his in less than what Louis is willing to say yes. 

“Can I get a water, please?” 

“Are you too young to drink?” The blond one asks, Niall, if he remembers correctly if the previous situation hasn’t drained everything he learned in his twenty years. 

A laugh escapes his lips due to the irony, denying without giving an explanation. 

“I just don’t.”

“So… did he give in?” Wendy asks, bowing to hand him a bottle of water, with a smile that looks totally sincere. 

“No. But he will.”

“Of course he will, you were awesome.” The other girl interrupts, adding up to the conversation. 

“What would you know, Courtney?” A masculine voice exclaims from what it looks like the bar deposit. “You were soooo lost on his thighs.”

“Shut up Zayn!” She answers, without looking even a bit embarrassed. “For the record, you have amazing thighs.”

“You’re not his type, babe,” Niall assures her, opening a can of beer as though he isn’t already in his working hour.

“How would you know what is his type? You don’t even know him.”

“Neither do you.”

“But I’m not the one assuming.”

“Can you please not talk about me like I’m not here?” He jokes, reclining over the bar, the bottle hanging at the end of his wet lips. “If you have any doubts, you can ask me. I’m pretty straightforward.”

“Pretty straight?” Courtney insists, her honey eyes filled with hope, tearing a solid laugh from all his co-workers, even Zayn, who appears from the back just to listen to the exchange. Harry isn’t going to complain about such a treat to his eyes.

“I’m pretty much very gay. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Told you!” Zayn declares, hugging her from the back, earning a whine from the girl that got him to smile; pearled teeth that creates a beautiful contrast with his olive skin free from any facial hair. “I have more chances than you do.”

Zayn isn’t his type. Too young and normal to maintain something that could cope with his expectations. It isn’t a challenge for him, Harry could have him in a snap of his fingers and that is simply boring, even though he looks like the sinful hybrid of an Arab and a greek god. Tough, that doesn’t mean he isn’t willing to get on his knees for him at least once. 

“Harry” Calls the voice of the person he nearly forgot is in the room with them, sitting in silence, waiting like a feline choosing which is going to be the destiny of his prey. Harry can’t wait to be haunted. “Can you come here for a second?”

“Well, I guess I could already assure that you haven’t seen the last of me.”

He comes back to the place where he left Louis a couple of minutes ago, finding him reclined backwards in the chair, looking like he has recovered all the control Harry took when he got him with his guard down with an attitude he probably wasn’t expecting. He leans against the stage, the tips of his fingers tapping over the firm skin of his belly, tracing the path of a couple of tattoos that are showing. 

“Can you start tomorrow? From Thursday to Sunday. We can arrange the prices when you’re settled.”

“Will I go by Ethan Edwards or is Harry Styles good enough?” A smile touches his face delicately like a silent gratitude, leaving his dimples partially in sight like a reward gift. 

“Harry Styles is alright. Suits you better anyway.” He answers like it’s not a big deal, as if his mind isn’t working around Harry’s persona.

“So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.”


	2. Boarding School.

_ Everyone from home _ _   
_ _ Says that you're so cool _ _   
_ _ Come on, everybody _ _   
_ _ To the boarding school _ _   
_ _ Everyone from town _ _   
_ _ Says that you're so cool _ _   
_ _ Come on, get down _ _   
_ __ To the boarding school

After singing six different songs in a crowded pub, the nerves start to wear off verse by verse, the cheers cooperating with his already big enough ego, people asking for another song in between the alcohol and the drugs. Harry had to give them what they asked for, there is nothing he likes better than to please.

He has barely seen Louis that day, who came just when he started to introduce himself to the clients and he watched him when he thought Harry wasn’t looking his way as if he feared being caught doing something he shouldn’t. 

He looked less impressed than the day before, but he supposes that it isn’t that he looks and sounds less impressive than normal, that is impossible, he checked on the mirror more times that he can remember if the black skinny jean makes his ass pop and shows his thick, long legs, leaving his belly in sight again with a silver sequins crop-top that he bought in a girl store. He isn’t less stunning, Harry always overcomes himself, Louis probably prepared for what he was going to see, he knew what to expect and how to react to what he has in front of him. And, regardless of that, he can still see in the distance how affected he is by him.

_ Let's do drugs _ _   
_ _ Make love with our teachers _ _   
_ [ _ Come on, baby, tell me _ _   
_ _ Where his tattooed-ass beat 'ya _ _   
_ ](https://genius.com/Lana-del-rey-boarding-school-lyrics#note-9103715) _ I'm a fan of pro-ana nation _ _   
_ _ I do them drugs to stop the f-food cravings _ _   
_ _ If you wanna get high with me _ _   
_ [](https://genius.com/Lana-del-rey-boarding-school-lyrics#note-6717345) _ I'm in the back doing crack _ __ , drinkin' p-p-pepsi

He is closing with a really personal song (but then again, all of his songs are personal), he wrote it just a few months after he got out of the boarding school where his parents dumped him when he was fourteen years old, getting rid of him when they found out he was hiding in alcohol, finding refuge in every sip ‘till it became a vice he couldn’t get rid of by self-will.

_ Cheap trailer trash and everyone knows it _ _   
_ _ But she got a great ass and she knows how to show it _ _   
_ _ With American flags on each little finger _ _   
_ _ You're crashing on Wall Street _ _   
_ __ While I'm blowing up as a singer

The alcohol was replaced by sex and the drugs he consumed hidden with his friends or the older guys that took him to bed. Everyone adored him, wanted to be like him or to be with him, defying the authorities in a rebellious act in which he tucked away the sadness and loneliness that overwhelmed him, the discovery of his sexuality which his parents didn’t take too well when the headmasters called them in his second year after they found him kneeling in front of one of the senior guys.

_ If you wanna get that scholarship _ _   
_ _ Yale's not a problem, let's solve it _ _   
_ _ Educated in the language of doin' it _ _   
_ _ Get down like your tutor taught you to _ _   
_ __ And do it

The change of millennium arrived with a change of mind, a renovated sense of what gender and lust is, Harry knew that it was okay, it felt okay to be roughly kissed (something he couldn’t find in girls, he kissed his friends a lot of times just to test himself, too soft, too pure, too wrong), to be pinned against a wall, to get fucked out of his mind, it felt so great he didn’t doubt it for a second, he was right, but a religious home isn’t the best place to be gay, not even when it was 2000 and the world was changing his point of view, as if a swap of numbers meant to finally let people be. They didn’t go to his graduation, too ashamed of the son that entered with addiction problems and was going to leave with a load even more charged of sins, a list of men that he couldn’t count with his hands, one that fucked up his mind so bad that took him almost a year to realise how toxic they actually were.

His uncles welcomed him with open arms at the request of his parents, who used his lesbian cousin as an excuse of how they would take better care of him and the problems that rising a homosexual son could convey, trying to get away of all the problems and bad experiences his presence in that house would mean, afraid of finding him ready to be taken by another man in his own couch, as he was wishing to do from the moment they neglected him, tasting the revenge that never came.

_ When they said prolific, they weren't kidding _ _   
_ _ You thought that I was just a calender kitten _ _   
_ _ But now you heard me purring, tiger, you're smitten _ _   
_ __ So let's begin to major in the art of sinning

He spins around the mic stand, sliding his hand delicately along it, his silver nail polish glowing under the light that is focused on his body. The movement leaves the room in silence, the growing tension caused by the sensuality that radiates from his body.

His eyes fall directly in one person, he is looking at him masked in the shadows, displaying what looks like a tailored black suit that doesn’t do anything to turn off the need to crawl to where he is and follow every order he gives him.

Louis watches him taken aback as if he isn’t expecting Harry to remember his presence and much less find him from so far, cornered between his stare and all the people alien to what  _ isn’t _ happening.

_ Get down, get down. _

Cheers come from the public when he finally finishes his set. He answers with a fake shy smile before he goes backstage to save his belonging in the place that was assigned to him. 

He hangs around for a bit in the loneliness of the place before he decides to go back to the social part of the pub in case Louis goes looking for him, or to his office which looks really tempting watching him from the back of the aisle.

To talk to Louis was the thing he was expecting the most, wrap the man around his finger and coax him to sin in a way he probably never did before. He is sure that doesn’t involve him getting caught with his nose sniffing in places he shouldn’t.

He arrives at the bar sliding himself in one of the few empty stalls waiting for Zayn or Tristan to come to offer him a drink. The worst thing about not drinking alcohol is that people usually don’t take him seriously, but he made himself an expert in the arts of evading uncomfortable conversations and the arts of charm. 

A woman approaches him to give her congratulations, squeezing his shoulder in the process as she whispers against his ear in which he supposed would be a sexy move if he was straight, anyway, he gifts her a smug grin, it doesn’t matter he isn’t interested in the person, knowing how fascinated people are by his being and how much they want to fuck him is enough to feed the daily dose his ego needs. 

After she comes to a group of men who also make clear their intentions, trying to casually talk about the days they frequent the pub not sounding as casual as they probably think they are being. He would have accepted the offer of one (or maybe more) of them if it wasn’t his first day at work and wasn’t expecting them to be magically replaced by another person. 

“God man, you’re from another world, I swear” Comes Zayn to save him from the intruders, taking a glass from under the bar “What do you want? It’s on the house.”

“Diet coke, please.” He looks at him as if Harry was  _ literally  _ from another world but has de decency not to ask, which would have probably been different if it were Niall who behind the bar, he could bet.

“So… those are pretty strong lyrics. Did you write them all?” Tristan appears, sliding hurriedly next to Zayn as if they are discussing the best gossip of the city, with a grin on his face that Harry can’t decipher. He decides he likes Zayn better. 

“Yeah, I wrote them all.”

“But you’re a kid!” He insists. Harry has the urge to drink the whole glass as if it was made of poison as if it would help him get along with the conversation. “How could you write that good and have so many experiences?”

“Well… maybe I’m an experimented kid. How would you know, Trevor?”

“My name is Tristan.” He says with a deep frown like he had been severely offended.

“Oops, my bad.”

Before he can say anything else, Wendy pushes him with her hip, sending the brunette away from his place, the girl watches with a frown at the sight of the guy walking away like an angry child, looking at them over his shoulder looking like he is waiting for an apology.

It was never in him to apologize, much less to people who judged him for his age. 

“You gave me a boner.” She assures, taking a snort out of him and Zayn, who rolls his eyes at the statement he probably was expecting. “Courtney was masturbating in her mind, I swear.”

“Oh god” Zayn murmurs, refilling the glass from the man who sat next to him “She isn’t going to give up until you ride a man out of your mind right in front of her eyes. Not even a blowjob will take her out of that dream.”

“Do you offer?” He jokes, even if everyone knew he was partially serious. Nobody in their right mind wouldn’t want to fuck Zayn.

“I’m sorry I have to take down such a great opportunity, but I don’t want to have my head ripped off of my body, even if it happens while  _ you _ are riding me.”

“Such an explicit conversation!” Wendy exclaims, but she looks totally delighted “Please continue! You can invite me to watch too.”

“Watch what?” 

His breath gets caught in his throat like a teenager with a stupid crush, his heart racing inside his chest in a threat to scape. Harry stood still, pretending the owner of _ that _ voice was just another simple addition to the talk. 

“Why do you always arrive that way, Louis? Do you not know how to start your own conversation?” The girl teases, flipping her blonde hair and fly away before her boss can complain about her sassy behaviour.

When he turns Louis is already looking at him, his brows raised just a bit looking like a gorgeous challenge to his eyes, his tongue is pressed between his lips and his hair looks incredibly soft in a fringe that leaves his mouth dry. Harry wants to touch everywhere, to obey, to beg, to cry and stand on his knees for as long as the man wants. 

His eyes stand out like lanterns in the middle of the night, drawing attention to them instantly in the middle of a dark pub. He feels high, it is like the reflector is all over again over his body.

“You shouldn’t distract them while they are working.” The pitched voice takes him out of his fantasies, giving him tingles all over his body even if it isn’t a reprimand. Harry loves the feeling of breaking the rules, whether they are too insignificant or really serious. 

“I think I distracted them more when I was on stage.” He answers, reclining his body on the bar, closer to the man who follows every movement with subtlety. 

A light sparks on his cerulean eyes, like Harry just lighted a fire in his orbs, flames dancing in his gaze in where, for a second, he finds the man undressing him. 

Louis looks like the kind of man that think they have everyone under control, at the palm of their hands, nobody but themselves noticing their true intentions. The truth is that Harry never saw a man more transparent before. 

“I will have to consider your payment if you’re going to make my employees useless.”

“I can’t make them useless when nobody was willing to even get up of their sits to buy a drink so they didn’t have to stop looking at me.” He winks, feeling braver than he should be taking into account that he is talking to the person who has the money he is going to make and his future in the palm of his hand. But also, he can’t avoid such an opportunity. God, he is completely torn between having to take things professionally and the need of having that man doing whatever he wants to his body.

Even if he doesn’t like to admit it, lust always wins in him. 

“You have a point there.” Louis chuckles, painting him a grin of satisfaction in his lips. 

“So you admit that I’m more than just  _ really good _ ?” He leans even closer, his shoulders brushing over the fabric of their clothes, the fancy blazer of the black suit making such a great contrast with the silver sequins. The responsibility of Louis’ professionalism playing with Harry’s cheeky personality. 

“You were amazing, I wouldn’t have hired you otherwise.” As comforting as the words are, still, they aren’t what he wants to hear.

“I think I was better than yesterday. I’m working on my movements, they’re a bit rusty. Today I was practising while I showered and my aunt nearly had to drag me out of the bathroom.”

He visibly gulps, dragging the tip of his tongue along his lips, making them shine under the dim light that the bar offers, combined with the dancing reflectors that play forms on his face. Harry wants to shove him against the bar to be turned around and played with. God, he can’t even remember wanting anyone this much in a long time, which is a bit reckless and irrational, but then again, Harry isn’t any typical kind of guy. 

“Yeah, yeah, you were better. If you want to put it that way” He makes a sign with his hand so Tristan comes to them, looking a bit put off. Harry knows he should feel a little bit guilty, but who is he kidding? He couldn’t care less. “Make me a Manhattan” He demands, reclining over the bar so he can be heard over the noise. Harry gets lost in the curve of his bum that lifted from the stall, prominent over the tight fabric of his suit. He can swear this man is completely made of sins. “Do you want anything, Harry?” 

His eyes travel to his gaze again and he knows for a fact that he was caught, he fakes indifference hoping his blush isn’t obvious for the other two who are looking at him with aim. 

“A diet coke, please.” He says, and the second the words roll off of his mouth he knows he must have sounded like a child.

“You can have a drink, it’s not like it would erase the first impression you gave yesterday.” Louis jokes, and in other circumstances, maybe he would feel pleased, however, at that moment, he is nothing but uncomfortable. 

“What do you mean?” Inquires Harry, a bit insecure. He wants to shake that awful feeling off, not used to it. “Was it that bad?”

To be fair, he knows it was a bit risky and  _ maybe _ slutty, as the guys tended to call him his last years of high school. He tried not to take it as an offence, even if it was one, he appropriated that name and proudly made honour to it, though it still is a difficult topic to even think about. But knowing Louis wasn’t as pleased as he seemed yesterday, knowing he probably went to his friends with a clear mind away from the temptation, to talk about the slutty, feminine guy he just hired hours ago makes a hole in his chest. 

Harry is proud of being the way that he is, that doesn’t mean he can’t feel humiliated by his surroundings.

“No, no. Wasn’t what I meant.” He leaves his drink in the bar, turning to him again. Harry feels exposed at that moment, moving on his sit wishing the night to be over soon. “Your first impression was so good that you could kill a man right now and I wouldn’t care less. You’re hired. Forever. Don’t even think about leaving. I won’t let you.”

The uneasiness doesn’t leave his chest after the reassuring words that even had a bit of double meaning camouflaged behind the pricing. Louis is finally telling him what he wanted to hear, what he waited for all day, what he dreamt all night about, and he can’t get to enjoy it ‘cause his mind decided to fuck it all up.

“It’s not like your employees would let me. They all fell in love with me, it’s already a bit too late.”


	3. Blue Jeans.

Sunday went away too quickly and Thursday didn’t arrive fast enough. He barely saw Louis his last day, getting into his office for the first time to talk about the payment. It was the best opportunity he had till the moment and he wasted it, not getting to be his flirty, cheeky self due to the nerves and the awful feeling that kept crawling inside his guts. 

Four days of rest were too much now that he knows how performing feels, missing the power, the sense of having the world at his feet. 

He couldn’t find anything a tiny bit distracting to lose time while he waited for the day to finally come. He even tried to write new songs in his journal; it was a total failure that got him in a bad mood for half a day until he came into an old song, a brilliant, twisted one he wrote just a month after he graduated, a month after  _ he _ left. So at least there's that. 

_ Blue jeans, white shirt _ _   
_ _ Walked into the room you know you made my eyes burn _ _   
_ _ It was like James Dean, for sure _ _   
_ _ You so fresh to death and sick as ca-cancer _ _   
_ _ You were sorta punk rock, I grew up on hip hop _ _   
_ _ Papi, you fit me better than my favourite sweater, and I know _ _   
_ _ That love is mean, and love hurts _ _   
_ __ But I still remember that day we met in December, oh baby

The words taste bitter on his mouth, the empty bar making an echo as his co-workers stay silent acting like he is some kind of deity when he stands on stage. 

His eyes are closed while the memories travel in the back of his eyes, he swears he can still sniff the smell of gas of the car where they used to hide, the jealousy of the lingering smell of a girl’s perfume over his skin, the day he walked away and Harry realised he fell in (and out of) love for the first time.

_ I will love you 'til the end of time _ _   
_ _ I would wait a million years _ _   
_ _ Promise you'll remember that you're mine _ _   
_ _ Baby, can you see through the tears? _ _   
_ _ Love you more _ _   
_ _ Than those bitches before _ _   
_ _ Say you'll remember, oh baby, say you'll remember oh baby ooh _ _   
_ __ I will love you 'til the end of time

The day he made the promise to himself of never falling in love again.

_ Big dreams, gangster _ _   
_ _ Said you had to leave to start your life over _ _   
_ _ I was like, no please, stay here _ _   
_ _ We don't need no money we can make it all work _ _   
_ _ But he headed out on Sunday, said he'd come home Monday _ _   
_ _ I stayed up waitin', anticipatin' and pacin' but he was _ _   
_ _ Chasing paper _ _   
_ __ Caught up in the game, that was the last I heard

His hands are shaking, too caught up and blown away by his own feelings. He can’t get to even imagine loving him again, he feels a twist on his guts just by thinking he could ever repeat the mistake of loving someone with such an intensity his inside shattered with the loss, all there is left inside him is anger, not only at  _ him _ but also at himself, anger of not knowing better, of not realising at the moment how sick everything was, letting him be filled by the praise of his friends who thought it was  _ so _ cool, reckless and hot.

_ You went out every night _ _   
_ _ And baby that's alright _ _   
_ _ I told you that no matter what you did I'd be by your side _ _   
_ _ Cause Ima ride or die _ _   
_ _ Whether you fail or fly _ _   
_ _ Well shit, at least you tried _ _   
_ _ But when you walked out that door, a piece of me died _ _   
_ _ I told you I wanted more-but that not what I had in mind _ _   
_ _ I just want it like before _ _   
_ _ We were dancin' all night _ _   
_ _ Then they took you away, stole you out of my life _ _   
_ __ You just need to remember

It is ironic how the person he once loved the most, as his past self wrote in a poetic kind of sadness, is the one he hates the most at the moment. 

He leaves the stage in a hurry, needing to clear his mind. The realization that he can’t have a single drink hits him when he arrives at the bar, his throat is sore and his hands are shaking, after all these years he still remembers exactly how calming was the burn in the back of his throat. 

Half moon scars paint the skin of his hands, a method of scape he started using a while back to punish himself and get away from the temptation, as he is doing right now, chest heavy at the nostalgia that expands through his body, running fast in his blood. 

“Do you want anything, H?” Courtney takes him out of the cloud in which he is hanging, there is a strange sense of familiarity in the nickname still when she gave it to him only last Sunday, the rest joined her when they discovered how much she wanted to be the only one to call him like that, committed to marking a difference in his life. 

“Water, please.” He blurts trying not to run by the other options in his head, sliding on the booth, playing with the charms of the gold bracelet his friends gifted him when he turned sixteen. 

“You have to take me shopping,” she says, touching the white shirt bordered with pink roses “I’d die to know where you buy all your clothes.”

He isn’t exactly dressed to die for, but still, he is nearly as well styled as ever. The silver trousers giving a subtle touch to his look and a man bun that sure adds him a couple of years. After singing that song he for sure feels older, carrying an amazing load in his back, the story he just told feels like it happened so long ago that it seems like it didn’t even happen to him.

“Yeah, of course” he answers, fake smiling. He is relieved to see Zayn approaching them with a face of horror, looking between Courtney and him as if they look totally disgusting to the eyes. “What happened?” 

“Is she molesting you?” He put a hand at the side of his mouth to whisper. “If you blink I’ll take it as a yes.” The guy murmurs and Harry barks a laugh at the indignation on the girl’s face. “Guys! We have an emergency!”

They appear all at once not looking faced at all. Wendy hugs Niall from behind as they stop in front of the bar and Tristan follows them like he doesn’t want to be there but wasn’t given another option than to follow the crowd. Much to his distaste. Harry doesn't like him that much, or at all. 

“What happened? Did Harry finally agree to go on a date with Courtney just to shut her mouth?” Niall asks, raising his brows in his direction. 

“Not gonna happen, but we have to keep him from running away at least until one am,” Zayn answers, serving himself a shot of whiskey before keeping up with the conversation. He can’t help the feeling of jealousy, the poisonous, liquid strength he can’t have the pleasure of anymore.

“Now that we have time to waste… are you gonna tell us a story today?” Inquires Wendy, putting her head in Niall’s shoulder.

“What do you want to hear?” The attention is good, looks of intrigue feeding his persona, knowing he is only twenty-one and people know he has more to tell than others twice his age.

“How many years were you in the boarding school? Must have been boring.” The girl says without a doubt, the five of them watching him expectantly like they all discussed that question before and now one of them finally has the courage to clamour it.

“When he sings it, it sounds like paradise.” Courtney comments and to Harry’s surprise they ignore her, acting like she is a kind of background noise. 

“Four years.”

“So it was boring as hell?” Tristan says, his voice soft, afraid to speak.

“I don’t believe hell is boring.”

“So what about that song you played… What did you call it, by the way?”

“Blue jeans.”

“What about blue jeans?... It sounds so fancy when you say it but when I do it’s just lame” Wendy accuses, an ounce of disappointment wavering in his tone. Like a sigh whispering,  _ I wish I was cooler _ “Tell us the story behind.” She insists, changing the attitude in a matter of seconds that bring back the girl with no shame.

“Do you want me to make an autobiography too?” He jokes, trying to ease his nervousness, his hands shaking slightly at what they want to hear, what he never had the guts to say out loud before, afraid of judgement, of being the slut all over again.

“Oh come on!” Everyone sides her, even Tristan, who can barely look his way frightened Harry is gonna jump to his neck. “Enlighten us with your story.”

“Choose one song and I’ll explain it to you. Just one.”

Democracy says what he is afraid of. And for the first time, he wants to side with Courtney so bad at her desire of  _ not _ hearing the story behind Blue Jeans. Harry doesn’t feel prepared to say it out loud and he obviously was stupid to jump to that statement hoping they would choose an innocent song (it isn’t like he has many).

A shadow behind them is the only thing that gives him the courage to talk, nearly providing him with a sense of anticipation. There isn’t a chance of the man not hearing the story and he can't waste another moment like he did the last time they saw each other and he was about to run away under his gaze.

“Courtney stop whining for god’s sake” Zayn hissies, taking him out of the trance where the noises in the background put him “We’re devastated your heart will break over Harry talking about being with a man, but that’s life, alright?”

That gives him the pass to get in the mood, pretending the conversation isn’t a trigger to him, just a normal relationship that wasn’t meant to be. He laughs, moving his head to shake off the feeling of uneasiness, remembering he has a goal to achieve and it is right behind his back walking as if his presence isn’t a rightful sin.

His nails travel to the flesh of his hands again right as he starts to speak. “It is about an ex-boyfriend. I wrote the song shortly after we broke up. I was totally gone for him, but now that I see it with a fresh mind I know I was in love with his dick” he jokes, making  _ almost _ everyone laugh (even Courtney) “He fucked me good, but it wasn't that mindblowing. Not a big loss. End of the story.”

“When did you two break up?” They all look intrigued, humming at Zayn’s question like he just said what they are all thinking about. 

“I spent with him a great part of my boarding school years. We weren't exclusive per so, not at the beginning at least. I regret it now, but my friends thought it was cool and I was just a kid.”

“Ohhh, so it was an older guy then?” Wendy claims, raising her brows in an accomplice way. Harry snorts, god, little do they know.

He has to gulp the feeling of how wrong it is to say it out loud, how dirty and  _ slutty _ he feels under their stare. It will help, push one of the many buttons he has to press yet to get that man begging for him to beg for him. 

“It was a teacher.” He admits, biting his tongue right after as a form of punishment.

He hears everyone gasp and, most importantly, he swears he perceived Louis stopping dead in his track. That nearly gets a smile out of him, to know he just won a piece of territory even if it is going to cost him murmurs behind his back of how dirty he is, how full of sins, touched and used, marked forever.

“That’s cool!” Courtney exclaims, and of course, that is what takes her out of her denial. Harry prefered when she was bluntly flirting with him and not repeating the motto that got to his mind back in the day, that made him do so many things that he regrets just for the sake of being liked. “Was he hot?”

“Yeah, I guess. I wouldn’t have fucked him if he wasn’t.”

“I bet you had the best grades of the class.”

If at least he had got such an advantage maybe everything wouldn’t be so messed up, but in return, there were always demands of  _ how many blowjobs am I gonna get after giving you a B?  _ or  _ I can still lower your grades if you don’t let me fuck you bare. _

“It didn’t work like that. Not between us.” 

A breath of relief is close to escaping from his lips as Louis materializes next to him, looking like a life saviour with a luxurious suit and a stoic expression, the epitome of richness. He traps his lower lip in between his teeth to swallow a whine of want, the need to crawl over him to get fed with the golden skin and never try another food again after tasting the power that emanates from that body. 

Oceanic eyes scrutinize his face carefully stopping in his eyes, startling him. 

It seems like everything happens in slow motion when the man appears on his radar in the same way as in the cliché, romantic movies he likes to watch when nobody is around to make fun of him. 

“Missed me, Mr Tomlinson? Must have been a long week without my delightful presence.” 

Braveness hits him like a wave, crashing in his body that doesn’t move an inch at his own boldness. 

“We’ll leave you two to flirt in peace.” Wendy blurts, breaking the spell. 

Harry forgot they aren’t alone, he is sure he isn’t being especially subtle while eating Louis with his eyes when just a few minutes ago he was talking about his ex. 

He guesses people aren’t that wrong when they call him a slut.

“I’m not _ flirting _ , Wendy” he lies, finally getting to look away. Everyone is already gone but the girl waiting for him to explain his actions with a defying look “This is just how I move. I flirt with everyone, even girls, it isn’t anything special.”

“So you are interested in girls?” Courtney shouts, appearing from some place at the back of the pub fixing her red dyed hair.

“No love, sorry. Maybe in another dimension.” He winks just after Wendy takes her arm to drag her out of the scene.

“You can tell me if you need me to talk to them” Harry is about to sigh at how much he was wanting to hear that voice addressing him again “They can be pretty intrusive.”

“Intrusiveness is good when there’s an interesting story behind, and I have many of that, but I’ll take it into account.”

“Don’t let them know how much you’ve got to tell or they’ll kidnap you until you talk. Gossip gets the best of them all” Harry laughs and is received with a little smile that lights the man’s orbs with a pair of wrinkles by the eyes. He is in heaven all over again, the hard topic discussed moments before temporarily erased from his being “It was a beautiful song, by the way.”

He feels like a fish gasping for air. Louis was there while Harry was playing the song. It is something he would be jumping about inside his brain in any other time, but he remembers clearly how bad his hands were shaking, his eyelids fluttering with sadness and rage about the boy he once was and is trying not to hate with all his being, he is innocent, it wasn’t his fault. And Louis saw all of that, the practice in which he allowed the song get to him so he could play it off as a simple addition to his setlist when the room was to be full of people he doesn’t want to feel weak in front of. 

“I didn’t know you were here.” He recites, not knowing how he has to react, what could he say that isn’t going to be wrong? It wasn’t meant for you to see that? Thank you? Please fuck me so I can forget about it?

“I was in my office. Came early today.” He gets up from his stall, serving himself a shot of whiskey below his stare, a stare that would follow him everywhere. When he starts to walk away, Harry turns his head in his direction, like he knows the conversation isn’t over, there is something missing and he can clearly see it in the glimpse of mischief in Louis’ eyes, as if he is gathering courage to say his next words, words that Harry finally can enjoy: “I’m glad I did.”


	4. Queen Of Disaster.

_ What you do to me is indescribable, _ _   
_ _ Got me sparkling just like an emerald. _ _   
_ _ Set my soul on fire, make me wild, _ _   
_ __ Like the deep blue sea.

It is Sunday and Harry feels completely at ease singing in front of a crowd that, being completely honest, he admits is not that big, but not so small to put his good mood off. The bar smells like a vanilla drink and a mix of a variety of cheap perfumes and sounds like a hard, long week that’s coming to an end, the soft buzz of voices over his own sounding like a tired collective whisper. 

His fingers are lazily dancing around the buttons of his t-shirt, a white see through that left a great pair of jaws dropped to the floor. He smiles to a crowd he can’t really see. Nameless faces, hidden strangers he’s glad he doesn’t get to watch.  

The back of the pub is the only line of people that he really gets to see as the blinding light doesn’t cover it, and there stands him, sitting with a black button-up and a blazer that camouflages itself with the other clothes, he’s sitting at the edge of the chair as if he’s watching the most thrilling of movies. Harry can’t completely see him, but he knows he’s not batting an eye, and he knows Louis knows that Harry has his eyes set on him and anybody else.

_ No other boy ever made me feel beautiful, _ _   
_ _ When I'm in your arms, feels like I have it all, _ _   
_ _ Is it your tattoos or golden grill, _ _   
_ __ That makes me feel this way?

It’s like he’s singing to him, looking directly to his eyes, letting his fingertips dance all over the skin that is exposed in his flushed chest. He wants more than anything for his fingers to be  _ his _ fingers, taking his shirt out, leaving a trail of kisses, of marks that can’t be taken out. He wants to feel desired, he wants the world to know how desired he is by the man with the blue, powerful eyes.

_ Got me spinning like a ballerina, _ _   
_ _ Feeling gangsta every time I see ya, _ _   
_ _ You're the king and, baby, I'm the queen of _ _   
_ __ Disaster, disaster.

Harry wants to get down from the stage and go straight to him, sit in his lap and continue his show from that untouchable place where he knows he would feel like he has the world at his hands. 

His hands are itching to touch something that is too far from his reach, his nails pressing in his own flesh to avoid the desire that is starting to crumble his insides. 

The stare is penetrating every cell in his body, burning it in blue flames that wrap him like a climbing plant to a plain wall. Not one cell in his body can be called plain but he can’t find himself thinking straight around his boss.

_ Got mascara thick, I get emotional _ _   
_ _ You know I was more than just a party girl. _ _   
_ _ Isn't hard to see what's goin' on, _ _   
_ __ I'm so far gone (mmm, so far gone)

It’s irrational how he is singing to a man he barely even knows, a man he met a week ago and still isn’t begging on his knees for him. He knows he’ll probably be in a couple of weeks, or less if he plays his cards right, but instead of putting him off, he wants him, even more, thanks to the rejection (it’s not really a rejection, it’s more like not completely accepting he wants Harry at all costs, which he does, from the very beginning).

_ When I saw your face it was incredible, _ _   
_ _ Painted on my soul, it was indelible. _ _   
_ _ We celebrate our twisted fate, _ _   
_ __ We're the broken ones.

He bites his lips seductively, suppressing a smile that probably makes him look shy and cute to the audience, making them forget just for a moment the sexy act he put up just seconds ago.

“Thank you for coming.” He says into the mic, jumping off of the stage to head to the bar as he usually does.

His eyes get locked with a couple of cerulean ones into the distance, finding them into the mass of people instantly. He’s watching him hidden in the shadows, but not even the lack of light can hide the smirk that is painting his face, lighting up his features like fireworks. Louis looks like he is going to approach him in a second, not breaking the eye contact while Harry gets closer to the bar without even looking its way.

He bumps into someone as his smile is getting bigger and more obvious, the loss of the beautiful, promising sight wiping it away instantly with the smell of beer hanging under his nostrils and a brownish stain inventing a new pattern on his button up.

The stranger looks much more appealing to the eyes than what the smell gives as a first impression. Harry smiles at him trying to calm himself and the guy down, who’s carrying a look of pure embarrassment.  

It isn’t difficult anymore to avoid the desire that the alcohol once was for him unless the tension or sadness overtake his mind, but that doesn’t mean that what just happened is something totally tolerable for his body that’s responding with uneasiness to that forbidden, delicious smell. 

“I’m so sorry oh my god—I’m sorry, how can I make it up for you? I’m an idiot I just—“

“It’s alright” he assures, smiling like he just won the lottery. The boy looks at him like he’s crazy. He’s probably, totally right, but he can still feel the stare that followed him all night over him “You can keep me company to mend up, but everything is alright I promise.”

“I can buy you a drink—I know it won’t recover your shirt I—“

“It’s just a shirt” he lies. It’s one of his favourite ones, but that information wouldn’t do anything to fix the situation. He has to work with what he has. “And I don’t drink. But, as I said, you can come with me anyway? I won’t pass the opportunity of having such a good looking guy by my side.”

Nameless guy smiles and is all crooked white teeth, sending a wave of cuteness that almost makes him forget about his shirt sticking to his body making him stink of alcohol. He will have to be careful when he arrives home, it’s not like his uncles don’t trust him, but a giant stain from beer in his clothes wouldn’t do him good even if he has a good explanation about it. 

He sighs when his back is to the guy who’s pointlessly leading him to the bar with his hand positioned in his lower back. He knows what the boy is thinking right in this very moment, how he’s checking him out from his privileged place to see perfectly the back of his figure, petting his body with his fingertips trying for Harry to get the hint he already got the minute the disgusting liquid was travelling along his skin.

Harry wouldn’t fuck him, maybe a blowjob in his situation (he’s desperate to give a blowjob, it’s been almost two weeks since the last one), but he’s definitely not his type. Too cute and innocent, way too easy to get, and probably only three or four years older than him. 

“Harry, it is?” He nods once they are both sitting in front of the bar. Zayn looks at him with his eyebrows raised from the other end like he’s waiting for answers right this moment. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink? I won’t take advantage on you if that’s what you’re afraid of.” 

“I really don’t drink. It’s alright, seriously.” He insists, with a small smile, trying not to get irritated by the constant insistence. “Besides, that’s what someone who’s gonna take advantage of me would say.”

“That’s not-”

“I know, I know” he reassures, a bit tired “So… did you come on your own?”

“I was with a friend but he already found someone to go home with.”

“So am I that someone for you?” He asks cheekily, the guy blushes instantly. Harry does his bests not to get away from him in the blink of an eye at the lack of self-confidence.

“I was actually going to invite you for a drink when this” he motions the mess created in his clothes with his hand “happened.”

“You have an excuse to take my clothes off now.”

Someone clearing his throat by his side startles the both of them. Their heads turn to the owner of the sound with their eyes opened like dears caught in the headlights. Harry composes himself instantly, raising his brows at the person that’s darting his eyes between the both of them expecting an explanation. His blue, oceanic eyes seem to have turned a shade darker now that they’re closer, not shining as bright under the dim light, a hint of seriousness that could be mistaken with angriness. Or, it could be that, but Harry doesn’t want to give himself that much credit.

“Good night, Harry,” his boss says, fixing his eyes on him, not even acknowledging nameless guy again. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. Wonderful” he answers a cheeky smile that comes with a side look to the guy that is totally uncomfortable at the new arrival. “How are you, Mr Tomlinson?”

“Fine. A little bored, just doing my job.” 

Harry smiles at him, pure innocence painting his lips. He gets the hint instantly, the jealousy that pours from his salty tone ‘cause he’s not doing his job anymore, he got off from stage to flirt with a random guy at the bar. Which apparently, obviously, is pissing Louis off.

“Yeah. I finished my job so now I’m just—you know” he gives a suggestively raise of his brows “Trying to do my other job.” It’s barely a whisper so the guy can’t hear it, but it’s enough to take Louis’ breath away.

“Do you—” He clears his throat, the impressed look on his face totally erased from one second to another. His eyes travel to his body, stopping on his dirty clothes that reveal part of his chest, it’s not something he had never seen but judging by the look in his eyes it’s a battle already won by Harry. “Do you want to get changed? That looks nasty. It’d be better to take it off before the smell gets into you.”

He’s standing on his feet moments after, placing his hand in the shoulder of the guy, Harry can leave with the load of never getting to know the stranger's name. He eyes them both like he’s trying to discover a hidden secret between them, but his eyes fix on him when he leans to talk to him again, speaking right over his ear loud enough for the man standing on his back to hear.

“You don’t have to wait for me, love. But I hope I see you again soon.”

Louis has a stern look on his face when Harry turns around again with a bright smile waiting for him to lead the way. They avoid the mass of people going through a corner of the place to crush into the door that leads to the backstage hallway. 

The music gets trapped outside and the only thing that can be heard is the echo of their footsteps. Harry wants nothing more than to be pushed against a wall fiercely and he can sense that’s exactly what Louis is thinking as well. The sexual tension could be cut with the simple touch of a fingertip. 

A strong, masculine scent invades him when he first steps inside the office. Louis smell is all over the place, embracing him like a spell. He swears he can smell the witchcraft that’s slowly taking him over, the forest, the salt, the pouring rain. He loves it, wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if he’s kind of losing his mind. 

He edges his bum in the desk while Louis gives his back to him to look for something inside a small closet. Harry takes advantage and starts unbuttoning his shirt, letting it hang from his shoulders, his chest totally exposed for Louis to see when he turns back around.

When he does, Harry notes he’s doing his best to keep his jaw in place, the hand that holds a plain black button up big enough for it to fit Harry (whose frame is bigger than Louis’, though he’s much leaner) trembles a bit. The man is completely taken with his guard off and his dick flinches at the mere thought of what could be going on inside his head.

“That guy out there would be dying to have me like this.” He says, trying to break the sexual tension by adding a little bit more of it. 

He smiles, but Louis doesn’t smile back, offering the garment of clothing with a stern look that doesn’t put Harry off, on the contrary, it makes him want to push the limits even more.

“Isn’t he too young for you?” Asks his boss, in a failed intent of sounding casual. 

“Yeah, he is. I like my man older. But he was there and I like to flirt, so I thought why not?”

“How older?” The question comes out as a blurt, surprising himself more than he surprised Harry who knew exactly where the conversation was leading to.

“Thirty is a good number,” he says, finally letting his shirt off of his body, starting to put on the clean one doing his best not to bury his nose in the soft cloth to see if he can find a trace of Louis in it. “How old are you, Mr Tomlinson?” 

“Twenty-seven.”

_ Shit _ , he thinks. _ Shit, shit, shit.  _ He’s afraid he’s going to get a boner right here in front of him. 

“Well, sometimes exceptions can be made. Don’t you think?”

He has to bite his lip to suppress the smile that creeps to his face when the man chokes a little after that, losing the calmness that characterizes him for a second before clearing his throat (again, Harry wants to ask him to stop, it’s annoying and he should be the one clearing his throat after sucking his dick).

“So…” He starts, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Harry definitely won this battle and it’s an important one. He goes to the door, buttoning the third and last button (for him), and leans into the wood waiting for Louis to keep talking. The man takes the place in which he was seconds ago and Harry has the urge to push him completely on the desk to sit on his lap. “I know it’s not my place but… do you really… you know—what you said out there, of doing your other job do you—‘cause I could raise your salary if you need me to you don’t have to do that—“

“Oh my god” he barks a laugh not containing himself, though he’s trying not to be endeared about the man nervousness (the same aspect that he found annoying on nameless guy a couple of minutes before) and at the same time he’s avoiding the concern, the obvious worry on his voice that Harry needs to brush off instantly. “I’m not a hooker, Louis.”

“Oh, thank god.” A sigh of relief comes out of his mouth. “I’m sorry for assuming, I had to be sure.”

“It’s alright, there’s nothing wrong with being a hooker. Besides patriarchy and all that shit. I’m totally against people having to sell their own body but it’s not their fault you know?” he rants against the system without losing his real goal, grabbing the latch to get out of the room, the final bomb at the tip of his tongue. He gives himself a second to admire the features of the object of all of his desires, the blue eyes that still keep a hint of concern invading every part of his mind, transforming his brain into a deep blurry ocean. “I offer my services in exchange of pleasure and consent. If you want to try them out.” 

With that, he leaves the office. He can see by his peripheral view how  _ finally _ his jaw drops open when he closes the door behind his back, a smug smile spread on his lips that will probably be there for a long while. 

Before stepping out into the bar again, he takes a moment to bury his nose in the new piece of clothing that hangs on his body perfectly. The smell of Louis hits him off immediately, marking him up, Harry doesn’t have a single doubt in his mind that it was the man’s intention all along. 


	5. Million Dollar Man.

_ You said I was the most exotic flower _ _   
_ _ Holding me tight in our final hour _

He never thought about the possibility of Louis being straight, that is quite high, to be honest with himself, there has to be something wrong in such a man, something off. He can't be perfect. So maybe he's straight. As straight as half the men he fucked, that could possibly be. 

But the thing is Harry always knows better. There is just a sense that never fails inside him. He knows a fair game when he sees it. He knows which guys are totally straight and which ones hide behind the macho men personality but can fall just for a pair of plump lips and a not so innocent smile. 

_ I don't know how you convince them and get them, but _ _   
_ _ I don't know what you do, it's unbelievable _ _   
_ _ And I don't know how you get over, get over _ _   
_ __ Someone as dangerous, tainted and flawed as you

It doesn’t move a single thing inside him, to see that girl sitting in his lap, playing with his tie as the man talks with his colleagues like she isn’t there. There is no way Louis is interested in her. He bets that if it was him sitting in his lap, Louis would already have a raging boner and he wouldn't even dare to blink to spare the millisecond not seeing him.

Harry is not a jealous person, he doesn't have a single bone capable of absorbing those toxic feelings. So there's a girl and she is cute. And she happens to be sitting right where Harry wants to be. Big fucking deal (eyes rolling).

_ One for the money, and two for the show _ _   
_ _ I love you honey, I'm ready, I'm ready to go _ _   
_ _ How did you get that way? I don't know _ _   
_ _ You're screwed up and brilliant, _ _   
_ _ Look like a million dollar man, _ _   
_ __ So why is my heart broke?

Their gazes lock seconds later as if Louis knew exactly when Harry started to look at him as if they were somehow connected.

The man fidgets, the hand that’s around the waist of the brunette starts to hang lazily, the rest of the world totally forgotten around them. It is always that way when he’s on stage, but tonight may be more powerful even. The last time they saw each other was almost a week ago when Harry made a suggestion that left his boss in awe to the point where he didn’t go to work the next day, taking the day off. Harry knew he was the cause and the sensation of winning is still running around in his blood.

_ You got the world but baby at what price? _ _   
_ _ Something so strange, hard to define _ _   
_ _ It isn't that hard boy to like you or love you _ _   
_ _ I'd follow you down down down, _ _   
_ _ You're unbelievable _ _   
_ _ If you're going crazy just grab me and take me _ _   
_ __ I'd follow you down down down, anywhere anywhere

He hopes Louis gets the message, that he understands that Harry’s singing to him, that the words that pour of his mouth are a pretty direct way of trying to lure him to finally give him what he wants. He’s aching to have that man over him, to fulfil every fantasy he has about him in that mind that can’t be as neat as its shell. A shell that Harry wants to crack with his mouth and his fingers and the dirty words he already has in the tip of his tongue.

He’d follow him anywhere, he’s telling him right there, with an innocent tone and a one-sided smile that shows that his intentions aren’t pure at all. 

_ One for the money, two for the show _ _   
_ _ I love you honey, I'm ready, I'm ready to go _ _   
_ _ How did you get that way? I don't know _ _   
_ _ You're screwed up and brilliant, _ _   
_ _ Look like a million dollar man, _ _   
_ __ So why is my heart broke?

A million dollar man, that’s what he is. A million dollar man that wraps his mind with the most impure thoughts, making Harry feel dirty in such a renovated way, imagining all they could do together, how he could drown in that pair of eyes that hold the ocean and all the magnificent creatures that hide there, how they could conquer the world (or a bed, for what matters) with the power of their bodies.

_ I don't know, _ _   
_ _ You're screwed up and brilliant, _ _   
_ _ Look like a million dollar man, _ _   
_ __ So why is my heart broke?

A suggestive smile travels Louis’ way before he continues with his last song, letting the electricity run through his body and the distance that’s putting them apart, the sexual tension so palpable that’s a miracle that the public isn’t backing off to let them get to each other. 

When he finishes his set, he goes to the backstage to adjust the little place that was given to him and got messy through the weeks. It’s almost been a month since he has been working in the pub and it feels like ages ‘cause he’s still not getting what he wants. He’s getting there, there’s no doubt about that, but even when Louis looks like he crumbles every time Harry looks in his direction, it’s not making any difference between them.

He’s tempted to sneak inside his office when he’s on his way out, but he decides that it may not be the best impulse. What would he say if his boss finds him? There's not a single possibility of him giving back the shirt that's hidden in his uncle truck to pretend to himself he’s going to do it eventually, so he doesn’t have a single excuse.

He’s not even at the door when it jumps open taking him by surprise. He’s glad he didn’t follow his impulses, although the person that is in front of him is not his boss. Not even close. It’s a guy, a pretty one, probably illegal too. He has baby curls all over his head and a look of fear painted in his green-brownish eyes when he almost bumps into Harry. 

“You can’t be here,” he says, and he sounds meaner than he should. But what is this boy doing here? A pretty boy that can’t be wandering in restricted areas of the building, a pretty boy that shouldn’t be even allowed to enter the pub. 

“Yeah-umm, Mr Tomlinson allowed me” he answers shyly. Harry furrows his brows, expecting an explanation that doesn’t come. Should he warn Louis about it or pretend it didn’t happen at all?

“Did he really?” Harry dares, putting his body against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks almost guilty and afraid, but he can’t get himself to not be intimidating, it doesn’t matter the boy in front of him is younger than him. Harry is feeling the uneasiness at the top of his stomach, the sensation that everything in this situation is totally wrong. “Why isn’t he with you then?”

“Umh-sorry but I’m doing what he told me. I’m here ‘cause he asked me. You can go ask him yourself.”

That leaves Harry gaping as the boy sneaks around his body to continue his path. Harry doesn’t have the nerve to follow him, he’s afraid to go to Louis and get yelled for putting his nose in places he shouldn’t. 

A hand travels to where his butterfly tattoo lays while he heads to the bar, his insides are twisting with the nerves of knowing there’s something wrong about the whole situation. He has always been the intuitive kind. That guy shouldn’t be there, Louis wants it or not ‘cause there’s only an explanation of why he’s there following his boss’ order and Harry isn’t going to think about that or he’s going to be sick.

Louis wouldn’t fuck an underage boy. Would he? Harry’s done with men taking advantage of the weaker. 

Niall and Courtney are immersed in a heated discussion when he arrives at his usual stall that is empty as usual as if everyone already knows that place is saved for him.

“Care to explain the sociopolitical tensions that led us here?” He asks, leaning in the bar, trying to get rid of the awful feeling that is shadowing his vital organs. Courtney smiles at him widely, her eyes lightening when he hears his voice. She still doesn’t give up on him.

“Niall says that lions can be gay, but I don’t think so.” She says, getting out of her haze to answer before her coworker can say anything.

“I read it on the internet!” The guy exclaims, totally serious about the conversation, looking enraged.

“The internet? Niall you can't go there! That place is dangerous. Do not buy computers! We can't trust those robots!”

“As a gay man, I’m devastated that you think that way.” He asserts to Courtney, going back to the main topic. The internet may be a dangerous place but there's free music  _ everywhere _ so he can live ignorant to its bad aspects. “Lions can be gay. Every species can have gay individuals. Everyone's a little bit gay, even Niall.”

“Even Louis?” The girl jokes, looking over his shoulder to where he knows the man is pretending to be straight.

“Especially him.”

His head turns to find the man he’s talking about, finding him no longer with the girl sitting on his lap, but fully standing and talking to his friends before walking away. Their gazes don’t lock, not even once, but Harry can’t help to follow him with his eyes until he sees him enter the backstage door, providing a stitch in his guts that at this point is completely upside down.

He can’t be fucking that boy. Harry’d rather Louis took the girl, that looked totally out of place attached to him. He’d rather it be him the one getting fucked, but he’s not so sure anymore now that his suspicions are mostly corroborated. 

“Zayn” he calls when he turns around again, looking for the guy he trusts the most to indulge the question that’s heavy in his mouth.

“What happened darling?” 

“Is Louis fucking younger boys?”

Zayn gapes at him and he gets his answer right away. Everybody knows about what Louis does and no one is doing anything about it. Harry doesn’t know what to do, he’s trying to appease his breathing not to get a panic attack right there. That would be embarrassing. 

He can’t believe he’s doing this. It’s so wrong Harry feels he’s going to cry about it. He wants to punch him in the face and call him out about being a sick bastard who’s taking advantage of young, innocent boys. Because that’s what the guy he bumped into was, an innocent boy. There's no other adjective that comes to his mind thinking of him, the glint on his eyes wary and defensive.

And he feels even sicker when he realizes that he’s jealous of him, of what he’s probably doing to Louis a few meters away. 

Why are men so fucked up? He included. Harry is a fucking piece of garbage. That's how he feels right now, aware of his foreign feelings he wishes he could shake off. 

“And you never thought that what he’s doing is illegal? No. Forget about illegal, I couldn't give a single fuck about the law. It's fucking disgusting and twisted and sick-”

“Harry, he’s our boss. We can’t do anything about it.”

“Yes you can, of course, you can” he deadpans, the scream is stuck in his throat. His hands are clutching, wishing to tear the place apart.

“No, we can’t if we want to keep our jobs.”

Why do they care about their fucking jobs? Who is probably an underage boy is getting fucked a few meters away by a man at least a decade older, a boy who’s probably going to regret what he has done when he thought he was being cool and reckless. 

“God. This is so fucked up.”

“I know. I don’t know what to do to make you feel better. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you-”

“This is not about me! I don’t care about that. I know he likes me, for god’s sake. This is about him taking advantage of a teenager.”

It is about both if he’s honest, but he’s trying to avoid the feeling of jealousy ‘cause it’s not the right moment. He should be totally sickened by Louis not to want him anymore. Harry had gone through the situation in which he’s putting other boys, his mind should be focused on what to do to help the guy that maybe doesn’t want to be helped at all. 

“I get it. I’m sorry. I can’t say I understand how affected you might feel, but it’s shit. You shouldn’t have to witness that kind of things ever again.”

Zayn is talking like he knows what Harry’s gone through, but he’s not even a little bit mad about it. His brain is processing a lot right now and Zayn’s words are reassuring. Harry wants to give him a blowjob. 

“Thank you. For telling me the truth” he says, when he remembers that Zayn actually said nothing about it “Or not lying to me, for what matters.”

“It’s alright darling. Do you want a drink? You know it’s on me.” 

“You also know I don’t drink.”

“A joint then?”

“Wouldn’t that make Louis mad?”

“Well, isn’t that the point?” He asks, raising his brows with a little smirk. Harry absolutely adores this guy.

“You got me there.”

The pub has a smoking section at the other end of the bar where it’s usually full of older men, but it’s now empty, unusually empty, and Harry’s glad about it. He doesn’t want anyone to flirt with him in this state, he would probably have them fuck off if they even dared to look his way.

The smoking section is obviously only for nicotine, but Zayn looks like he does this every now and then, totally chill about breaking the rules.

“Can’t he fire us?” He asks while the smoke is wrapping them up in a fog that’s making the air feel heavy around them. Harry starts to laugh almost instantly, a hiccup scaping that makes Zayn start to laugh as well. “I mean, shouldn’t you be working? And I’m pretty sure it’s illegal, New York and his fucking uptight ass,” he mutters and Zayn barks a laugh that sounds  _ too _ close “What if someone catches us? What if Louis catches us?”

“We all have thirty minutes to rest. I’m taking mine. Besides, Louis loves us. And he wants to fuck you, he wouldn’t dare to fire any of us over this. And if someone else dares to call the police, be sure nothing is going to happen. Louis has them under his sleeve.”

_ He has everyone under his sleeve _ .

“Do you think he will do it?”

“What?”

“Fuck me.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how he’s containing himself. I mean, it’s pretty obvious you want him to wreak you” He starts to laugh again, feeling suddenly lightweight. He’s almost forgetting about why he has started to smoke in the first place. “I’m sorry baby, it’s the truth.”

“It’s not like I try to hide it, you know.”

The laughter suddenly goes off when Zayn’s eyes land over his shoulder. Harry turns around to see what had silenced the melodious, contagious smile of his beautiful co-worker, and what he sees puts off his mood all over again. Talking about Louis like nothing happened was a thing, now he has the reminder that everything is going totally wrong right in front of him. 

Louis is looking his way with a smile that’s almost shy. Harry wants to scream at him and the desire to punch him straight in the face grows, even more, when he sees the boy come out the door right after him, pushing his way into the crowd without looking Louis’ way once.

His boss doesn’t even seem to be mad about what they’re doing right in front of him, making his blood boil in his insides. Harry needs him to be mad, he’s  _ so _ enraged. And he doesn't want rage to be the only feeling he’s capable of processing. His rage always go hand to hand with injustice. Harry hates injustices  _ so fucking much _ he sometimes forgets to process any other emotion 'cause there's no vacant room inside him for them.

When he storms out the pub after saying sorry to Zayn he hears his name being shout over the music. He doesn’t look back.


	6. The Blackest Day.

_ Carry me home, got my blue nail polish on _ _   
_ _ It's my favorite color and my favorite tone of song _ _   
_ _ I don't really wanna break up, we got it going on _ _   
_ _ It's what you gathered from my talk, but you were wrong _ _   
_ _ It's not easy for me to talk about _ _   
_ _ A half-life in lost dreams _ _   
_ _ And not simple, it's trigonometry _ _   
_ _ It's hard to express _ _   
_ __ I can't explain

He wasn’t expecting Louis to be watching him like nothing happened the day before. But there he is, with his blue eyes haunting his body. Harry isn’t going to break, isn’t going to forget how he felt, the betrayal from someone he doesn’t even know. He can’t shake the feeling of being disappointed with himself for getting his hopes up about someone he knows nothing about, for getting his hopes up about a man when just a year ago he had made a promise to himself of never committing the same mistakes again. 

_ Ever since my baby went away _ _   
_ _ It's been the blackest day, it's been the blackest day _ _   
_ _ All I hear is Billie Holiday _ _   
_ _ It's all that I play _ _   
_ __ It's all that I play

Confidence took his whole body the minute he stepped over the stage and to see him there watching the place where he’s standing like his eyes were already fixed in it waiting for him. 

_ Because I'm going deeper and deeper (deeper) _ _   
_ _ Harder and harder (harder) _ _   
_ _ Getting darker and darker _ _   
_ _ Looking for love _ _   
_ _ In all the wrong places _ _   
_ _ Oh my god _ _   
_ _ In all the wrong places _ _   
_ __ Oh my god

He’s so mad, he’s so fucking furious. He has the urge of ripping Louis’ throat with his teeth and turn the man into a feast. Savour him through his last minutes. He’s still  _ so _ mad not only at Louis but at himself for having this kind of thoughts, for wanting him so much it hurts.

_ Carry me home, got my new car and my gun _ _   
_ _ Wind in my hair, holding your hand, listen to a song _ _   
_ _ Carry me home, don't wanna talk about the things to come _ _   
_ _ Just put your hands up in the air, the radio on _ _   
_ _ 'Cause there's nothing for us to talk about _ _   
_ _ Like the future and those things _ _   
_ _ 'Cause there's nothing for me to think about _ _   
_ __ Now that he's gone, I can't feel nothing

For the jealousy that starts grabbing his insides, climbing around his body, when he sees a boy sitting next to him, although Louis isn’t even looking his way, his blue stare penetrating Harry like that’s gonna make him forget when he has the reminder right into his eyesight.

He can’t really see his face, but judging by the lack of curls, is not the same one. Which is even worse, which means he has a thing for young guys in general, it’s not just one guy, it’s a general feature he finds attractive in the boys he fucks.

_ Ever since my baby went away _ _   
_ _ It's been the blackest day, it's been the blackest day _ _   
_ _ All I hear is Billie Holiday _ _   
_ _ It's all that I play _ _   
_ __ It's all that I play

Maybe that’s why he was attracted to Harry in the first place. That’s why he asked Harry how old he was the day he hired him. Maybe Harry is just another sick fantasy he wants to fulfil. 

_ Because I'm going deeper and deeper (deeper) _ _   
_ _ Harder and harder (harder) _ _   
_ _ Getting darker and darker _ _   
_ _ Looking for love _ _   
_ _ In all the wrong places _ _   
_ _ Oh my god _ _   
_ _ In all the wrong places _ _   
_ __ Oh my god

The sickest part is Harry would let him. Harry would let Louis do whatever he wanted to him, he would let him corrupt him in a heartbeat, every fault he had committed wouldn’t matter, it would only matter the bad things he would do to Harry over his desk, over whatever he wanted Harry to be.

_ You should've known better _ _   
_ _ Than to have, to let her _ _   
_ _ Get you under her spell of the weather _ _   
_ _ I got you where I want you _ _   
_ _ You did it, I never _ _   
_ _ I'm falling for forever _ _   
_ _ I'm playing head games with you _ _   
_ _ Got you where I want you _ _   
_ _ I got you, I got you _ _   
_ __ I got you where I want you now

Lying to himself isn’t going to get him anywhere; Harry  _ is _ playing head games with Louis. Or at least he’s trying. He’s trying to show him how much better he can be while hating him from the distance, he’s trying to seduce him with his hypnotizing movements more than ever, his cold, deadly stare fixed on him while moving his hips, while licking his lips, while fluttering his eyelids with a half smile that is plagued with everything but innocence in it.

_ Ever since my baby went away _ _   
_ _ It's been the blackest day, it's been the blackest day _ _   
_ _ All I hear is Billie Holiday _ _   
_ _ It's all that I play _ _   
_ __ It's all that I play

Harry can have him, he knows he can get him, but he wants him to beg more than ever, he wants him to stop doing what he’s doing right under everyone noses (especially his own), he wants Louis to belong to him and nobody else, to get to know the taste of his lips, the sweat emanating from his body while he’s pinning him against a wall, the taste of everything Louis can give to him, that desires to give to him.

_ It's not one of those phases I'm going through _ _   
_ _ Or just a song, it's not one of them _ _   
_ _ I'm on my own _ _   
_ _ On my own _ _   
_ _ On my own again _ _   
_ _ I'm on my own again _ _   
_ _ I'm on my own again _ _   
_ _ I'm on my own again _ _   
_ __ I'm on my own again

When he gets to his stall, it’s to find out it’s taken by someone else. He can’t avoid being annoyed by it even when he knows that man is probably putting it to better use than him, who usually only drinks a bottle of water and distracts the employees behind the bar. 

He’s about to leave, try to find somewhere else to go just as the guy turns his head to the right leaving his profile in good sight, making him approach without a doubt.

Who is he to reject a great opportunity to flirt with an older, handsome man with a short beard that would definitely feel good between his thighs?

“Is it comfortable?” He asks, leaning with his back against the bar, pushing off the hair that’s hanging in front of his face to display a cheeky smile. 

Rough, that’d be the word he’d use to describe him. In a good way, rough as in  _ I want to pull your hair while you fuck me into your mattress _ rough. He likes rough. It’s not exactly what he needs right now (which would be a much less rough guy, with a pair of icy blue eyes and a sharp structure that could cut him in half), but he wants something and he is going to have to conform. 

“What?”

“The bench. Is it comfortable?” He looks at him like he’s mad while he barks a laugh, shaking his head in amusement. His fingers travel to the buttons of his shirt, playing with the last one that’s buttoned-up below his heart. When he raises his eyes, the guy’s eyeing him carefully, like Harry’s someone to beware of, but at the same time, he looks intrigued. “That’s where I usually sit. I’m sorry. It was a lame line to approach you.” He says, playing the soft victim card.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He answers, his eyes open like a deer caught in the headlights. “Do you want to sit?” Harry doesn’t have to answer ‘cause the guy is already backing off to leave the place for him. He takes it, of course, keeping the back to the bar so he’s facing him, balancing his legs in a way that looks totally cute. “Do you want a drink?” He asks lower, almost a whisper, it’s only noticeable from the short distance how his brown eyes are turning black.

“I don’t drink.” His tone is plain, tired of having to give that answer to everyone, and pleased by his abilities of already having him with a couple of lame words.

His eyes wander over the man’s shoulder to find Louis looking sternly at him. Harry wants to put his middle finger in the air and tell him to fuck off, but at the same time, he wants to lure him to come and get him, claim him, to take him right there in front of anyone.

Instead, seconds after he decides it is enough. He’s seen enough of Louis, enough of his cold freezing eyes, of his confusing actions that put Harry over the edge, of the guy that’s sitting beside him with Louis hand hanging lazily behind his chair. 

“So… what’s your name, beautiful?”

“Harry” he answers, trying not to laugh at him. 

Louis is jealous and he wants to keep it like that. He’s reciting a mantra in his head as he lets his hand linger in the covered bicep of the man hoping Louis is watching them just like before. 

“So, Harry… you don’t drink.”

“I don’t drink, right.” Repeats Harry, with a sombre of a clever smile.

“So what do you do? For fun.”

“What do I do for fun?” He licks his lips insinuatingly, looking at him under his lashes. “Get fucked, I guess. Maybe harder drugs if I’m in the mood. Maybe both. Write songs too, but I’m sure that’s not what you want to hear.”

“Not unless those songs are about me.” So, definitely not. “What about the first ones, though?”

“Do you have drugs here? Or do you mean that you want me to ride your dick?” 

He shouldn’t be surprised at all about it, but he’s still is a little bit. The man looks too innocent, not innocent enough not to desire to fuck him rough, but innocent enough to have vodka been the strongest thing he ever had in his life.

“Do you fancy a line, pretty boy?”

Harry doesn’t have a single excuse as for not to agree with the tempting offer.

“I can take you to heaven without all of this,” he declares and it’s true, what can he say? His mouth is a wonder. “But I’m not going to be the one to decline your offer.”

It ends up not being a line, but a little mountain pressed into his gum that takes just a few minutes to get to his nervous system and kick in, the endless desire of wanting to do all at once like he has the world at his hands.

They kiss a little bit, with their hands getting tangled around each other's bodies. It’s not enough arousal for Harry, he could be kissing him a lifetime and it’d never be enough.

He pushes away to let the guy - _ Jake _ \- mark his neck and he takes advantage to search for his one and only target, the one who he wants in Jake’s position (it sends a rush to his dick at the simple thought of it), but Louis is not around anymore, nor is the boy who was sitting next to him who is probably kneeling in the neat carpet of his boss’ office right now. 

Next thing he knows, he’s off the seat, pushing the guy back who looks at him mix of surprise and confusion while Harry makes his way through the crowd entering backstage without a second thought.

The rush of the drugs is overtaking him, he’s not thinking straight. But Louis must hear him, he has to know how fucked up everything that he’s doing under everyone’s noses is. 

“Get out” he demands to the boy that hidden behind the desk. Louis is looking at him in awe (and with a little bit of admiration, he’s probably not used to be confronted). “Get. Out.” He insists, dark, rough, probably a little bit much scarier with his pupils blown wide and his jaw slacked with anger.

Louis nods to the guy who stands up with his face down. Harry wants to ask him for forgiveness, but the adrenaline is making him too mad to have that kind of regrets. And, he’s jealous. How can he not? He’s jealous at how hot Louis looked the second Harry burst in, just a small ring of blue around his pupils, his lips a desirable shade of shiny red that can only be blamed to a kiss. That boy had it all, a boy younger than him, less experienced than him.

“How old are you?” Harry asks, not even turning to the boy who’s probably wiping his mouth as he walks out the door. Harry hears  _ seventeen _ being murmured before the door is closed behind him. “Did you hear that?”

“What? You interrupting here like a madman? Yeah, pretty well, actually.” Louis deadpans, his arms crossed over his chest.

“That’s not only disgusting, that’s also illegal.”

“You can’t tell me what to do in my bar. Much less when you were snogging the shit out of a thirty-some.”

“Ohhh. You’re blaming me? For trying to have fun? I was having a good time but I can’t fucking continue with my life knowing you fuck kids ten years younger than you. A fucking decade. Are you insane?” The palms of his hands are over the desk where he’s kneeling in front of Louis, who looks too chill like he couldn’t care less about anything Harry’s saying. 

“Who are you to tell me this when you probably fucked guys older than me when you were that boy’s age?” He demands, at the verge of shouting. Harry almost sighs out loud, that’s what he came here for. 

“I’m the guy who was fucked. I’m the seventeen-year-old. I was. I’ve been in his place. That’s who I am.” It even surprises himself how dark he sounded, but Louis is not looking angry and frustrated anymore. Harry could bet all there’s left is respect and pity maybe, buy he’s not a charity case and he couldn’t care less at this point. “So I can’t tell you what to do. But the authorities surely can. And I can get to them after I run the fuck out of here.”

He remembers what Zayn told him about Louis relationship with the authorities, but he’s hoping his boss (or ex-boss, he doesn’t even know what’s happening at this point if he has to be honest) still has a little sense inside him to back the fuck off from this mess.

“It won’t be necessary.” 

“Alright. I’m gonna get my things then.” He declares, taking three steps backwards from the desk. He’s feeling exhausted after revealing what he considers too much, the memories wrapping him slowly as a reminder that he’s never going to get away from his past.

“You’re still quitting?”

“Aren’t you firing me?”

“Of course not,” Louis says like it was so obvious as the day sky is light-blue and it lives inside his eyes.

“Alright.” He says, seconds after. He moves towards the door, his heart beating so fast it feels it’s going to come out of his chest the next second. “I’m trusting you here, Louis.”

He rushes to his uncle’s truck parked almost a block away from the entrance of the pub. There’s a boner tucked in his skinny jeans (he doesn’t really know when it got there, he doesn't want to know. He’s fucking sick, he’s a monster) and it’s aching for some release, begging him not to wait until he arrives home. And who is he to stop his body urges?

Louis shirt is wrinkled in the passenger seat. Harry doesn’t hesitate to put it over his head, blocking his own vision and getting overwhelmed by the strong perfume that vanished off just a little bit. It is enough to take him to where he wants though, it’s enough for his hips to start moving upside, his hands clutching the wheel for resistance as he’s fucking the air slowly like he’s doing inside his mind while he has the tip of Louis’ dick heavy in his mouth. 

His teeth sink in the soft cloth, making a little bump between his lips to suppress the whimpers that are escaping from the back of his throat. He wants him so much, so badly, he wants to scream, to crawl to the pub and beg him to fuck his mouth already, to take the sad pathetic whimpers away.

So he imagines it instead, pictures what it would be to deepthroat Louis, to get used by the man who would get so desperate for his mouth he would come in a matter of seconds. Humping the air is suddenly not enough. Precum is making a mess not only of his boxers but his jeans that started to get wet where the tip of his cock lays waiting for some kind of release. Spit is not even needed to start jerking off slowly, picturing his own gagging sounds while his boss takes him roughly, pulling his long hair to make it hurt ‘cause, at this point, it’s obvious Harry loves that.

Harry’s not even ashamed of someone finding his activities out. He’s too desperate for some release, he’s too horny to even care about anything that isn’t Louis and making himself come in the next two minutes.

His hand is moving frantically at this point, the same rhythm that Mr Tomlinson (that’s what he would call him in bed, without a doubt) is taking to fuck his mouth, to make him gag with the tip of his dick at the back of his throat.

Louis is cumming without a warning in his head, the jizz choking him a little bit while he tries to take it all down not wanting to disappoint. And that’s how he comes, all over his hand, with the wishes of cum all over his mouth and the praises of how good of a boy he is.

Harry is fucked (he wishes).


	7. Burning Desire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm such a Zarry trash.

_ Every Saturday night I get dressed up to ride for you, baby _ _   
_ _ Cruising down the street on Hollywood and Vine for you, baby _ _   
_ _ I drive fast, wind in my hair, push it to the limits 'cause I just don't care _ _   
_ _ You ask me where I've been? _ _   
_ _ I been everywhere _ _   
_ __ I don't wanna be nowhere but here (Come on tell me boy)

On his knees, Harry feels the whole world is at his mercy. 

It isn’t Louis on the receiving end, but Zayn is still good enough for him. And there’s the advantage that Zayn knows, he knows what Harry is doing, he knows he’s teasing his already hard dick through his pants in hopes that Louis is going to find out about them, interrupt the scene they are making and forget how to form a coherent sentence.

He can’t deny he’s really enjoying the feeling. Harry has always been labelled as a slut, and he kinda is if he has to be honest (though the word always had a negative undertone and he is still a person with feelings, contrary of what people tend to believe). His thighs are on fire, but a smile is creeping on his face at the perspective of what could happen.

_ I've got a burning desire for you, baby _ _   
_ _ (I've got a burning desire, come on tell me boy) _ _   
_ _ I've got a burning desire for you, baby _ _   
_ __ (I've got a burning desire, come on tell me boy)

Louis looked stunned sawing him flirt with Zayn, whispering over his ear and touching his exposed neck in a friendly way that of course wasn’t in any way friendly. His eyes were locked on him like a warning, a bet was written there with fire,  _ you won’t dare, _ they said. Harry dares, he’s always willing to do whatever it’s needed to get to his goals. And jealousy it’s not only a short path but also a fun one. 

Zayn’s dick feels heavy in his hand while he’s kissing the skin under his belly button. He’s not receiving much, but it feels more like Zayn is doing a favour to him than him doing a favour to Zayn. Which means a lot, taking into account that Harry gives the best blowjobs.

_ I drive fast, wind in my hair, push it to the limits 'cause I just don't care _ _   
_ _ I've got a burning desire for you, baby _ _   
_ __ (I've got a burning desire)

His body shakes with the excitement that provokes the mere thought of getting caught. He would’ve gotten punished if he had done something remotely similar to his ex-boyfriend (and thank god he isn’t). Still what he’s doing surely deserves a punishment, distracting his coworker; on the verge of giving him a blowjob in the back alley of the pub where they are supposed to be working.

In the pub in which Harry left a dozen men with their jaws touching the floor after flirting with them. They all knew it was going nowhere, Harry was too cute and too young for most of them, but the thrill of jumping around men and getting constantly praised is his equivalent to having great,  _ the best _ , marks on school. 

Louis was watching him from the distance, as Harry travelled along the pub with his shirt barely buttoned and his hair tied in a semi-bun that turned on his innocence without taking away the hint of mischief.

_ Every Saturday night I seem to come alive for you, baby _ _   
_ _ Santa Monica, I'm racing in the lights for you, baby _ _   
_ _ I drive fast, radio blares, have to touch myself to pretend you're there _ _   
_ _ Your hands were on my hips, your name is on my lips _ _   
_ _ Over over again, like my only prayer _ _   
_ __ (Come on tell me boy)

“Are you going to get started anytime soon or are we waiting for Louis?” asks Zayn, with a sided grin that’s telling Harry to hurry up already.

“Don’t get cocky, you asshole.” That is the best part. Their relationship had grown enough for the both of them to be totally comfortable with all of this “You know you’re gonna cum the second I put my mouth on you.”

“What could be better than Louis catching you tasting my cum?”

The statments has him unzippping Zayn’s trousers faster than any of them could take a breath, getting to face the outline of his hard dick. He is a little bit eager, to say the least. It has been a long time since he got something inside his mouth, and while Zayn wouldn’t have been his first choice, he could kill two birds in one eye. 

It had been almost a week since Harry saw Louis pull that kid to his office; a week since he started to watch him carefully, eyeing for the promise the man has to keep so Harry won’t lose his mind. He really can’t be sure if Louis is truly keeping his word, but Harry is good at reading people, he stares from the corner, silently, like a predator analyzing his next victim. The only problem with this dinamic is that Louis always finds him, Harry could find the best spot on earth to hide and Louis is still going to flood it with this ocean that burns his skin. 

The door creaks. Harry pretends he doesn’t listen while he rubs his cheek in Zayn’s black pants, taking his tongue out when he finds the tip to rub it over the cloth. It gets a moan out of Zayn, an involuntary moan ‘cause he’s totally sure that they have company and Zayn looks like the kind who doesn’t make a single sound while taking plasure.

“Which one of you should I fire first?” Louis asks, and that’s when Harry dares to meet his eye, with his cheek over the hardness of Zayn’s dick that’s twitching under the pressure and the excitement of being caught by their boss who looks like he’s about to murder him with his own hands.

He looks magnificent under the moonlight that’s hitting only half of his face, sharpening his features that scream DANGER in capital letters, with neon blue lights. Harry wants to give him everything he has, to crawl to his feet and beg for forgiveness.

Instead, he gets limited to admire him from his place, kneeling in front of the wrong man, smiling like he just found out he won the lottery and is now a multimillionaire. Harry can’t get carried away for his cravings, his plan was made with his head clear and he can’t ruin it in the blink of an eye ‘cause his boss is too hot to resist. It doesn’t matter how dry Louis’ lips are, how much his dress pants are hugging those thighs that had been made to strangle him, nor his eyes burning daggers into him like he just jumped into the freezing water of the ocean to have an adventure that’s without a doubt going to kill him. 

“I’m already finished and Zayn is taking advantage of his break. So I would say you can’t fire us for this situation.” Louis looks really conflicted, his posture stiff but at the same time approaching, like he’s at the verge of jumping to get him to back off. “We’re outside so we’re not breaking any rules. Are you out with us, Mr Tomlinson?” 

He mouths Zayn dick teasingly, though he’s not really sure who he’s really teasing. 

“Harry. To my office. Now.”

“I can go to your office when I’m finished. Or when Zayn’s finished. You can wait here and watch the show. Or you can join, for all I care. There’s room in my mouth for two.”

His attention is back to the task, his knees started to hurt over the strengh he’s doing with his legs, but he learned how to put up with it through the years. He plays with Zayn’s dick a little more, mouthing along the length, wetting the cloth and getting little sounds out of him that advice Harry of how close he is to cumming right there inside his pants.

He can’t count with the palm of his hands the large number of men that he got to cum inside their own pants. It’s ridiculous. Men are ridiculous, but they are beautiful and raw and Harry needs them so bad it’s embarrassing. 

Zayn’s pants are off and he’s about to put the tip of his cock inside his mouth that’s already watering. He’s about to taste the precum, to finally feel again the heaviness over his tongue that he learned to love the minute he tried it for the first time, when all at once he’s taken abruptly away, a whine escaping his lips at the loss of contact while he’s being dragged by a pair of arms that he couldn’t have guessed were  _ that _ strong. All of a sudden he’s  _ really _ turned on. 

Still, he’s a little bit frustrated. He completely forgot Louis was there ‘cause he really thought he had left. Silly of him, of course Louis wouldn’t have left him there, and he’s glad at the bottom of his heart, it’s so hot to know Louis is willing to physically drag him out of there so he can get away from sucking Zayn’s cock (or any cock that isn’t his, probably). 

“To. My. Office. Do I have to repeat myself?” Louis insists, a low and dark growl when he puts him on his feet again. And what did Harry say about cumming inside pants?

He gives a fleeting glare to Zayn asking him for forgiveness, even when this was the whole point. They both thought he was going to be able to cum at least. But, as selfish at it sounds, he’s not that sorry about it. He’d rather have a jealous, angry Louis screaming at him behind the desk that he would be inspecting so he can find the best way to kneel over.

Louis drags him by his bicep, but the hold is not half as tight as it was the moment he took him away from Zayn. When the man opens the door, he pushes Harry inside, his imagination drifting to many pleasurable places in which Louis would rip his pants off to bend him over the clean-cut desk. It doesn’t happen, of course, (yet).

“You can fuck older people? Your coworkers? And what I do is immoral?” 

He raises a brow, trying not to laugh right at his face. It is ridiculous but Harry knows he is talking from the place of jealousy, which is a bit endearing if they ask him. He strangely wants to hug him tightly, his heart feels heavy against his thorax from emotions that he doesn’t want to dive too deep into. 

“I’m twenty-one, Louis,” he says, and there is not a single trace of irritation, he even sounds a bit soft. Disgusting. “I can fuck whoever I want. You do too, in fact. If they are not minors.” 

“Don’t fuck Zayn.” Harry opens his mouth to answer cheekily, but Louis shuts him before he can “Neither Niall nor Tristan.” 

“Don’t? Is that grammarly correct? Or you mean I  _ can’t  _ fuck my coworkers. Is this a request?”

Louis gapes a little bit at that, but he recovers his composure the minute Harry giggles at his loss of words.

“You can’t.” 

“Is this some kind of rule you have or it only applies to me? It’s a bit unfair if you ask me.”

“It’s a rule. You can’t. I let you get drunk, do drugs sometimes. But you can’t fuck in here.”

“Well, Zayn wasn’t that aware of this rule you’re talking about. Maybe I’ll ask Niall or Courtney about it when I head out, I bet they will tell me all the details about all these rules you have going on in here” Harry says, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he’s brilliant, truly brilliant “Besides, I wasn’t going to fuck him. I don’t do the fucking. And it was only a blowjob.” 

“You can’t fuck-or get fucked-god, not the point! You can’t please anyone while you are working. Not your coworkers, not customers. Anyone.”

“What?” He dares, a hand laying in his chest in disbelief. Louis is acting like he is his fucking owner and god, why does his gut feel up to it? Harry should be really annoyed, but he only feels desired. “That’s not fair!” 

“I don’t care what is fair or what isn’t. You are here to sing. You can be as slutty as you want on stage. Not when you’re off of it. And please, please, can you dress normal tomorrow? My friends are coming. Just wear normal pants, if you even own them.”

And now he feels a little bit insulted. What is he on about? What the fuck? It’s alright if he wants Harry to live celibate, really. But his clothes? 

“What? Are you serious? Dress normal and what? Put off half of my show? My clothes and I come together. It’s not the same if I just ‘dress normal’. And that’s insulting, seriously.” 

Louis’ look is stern, his eyes as icy as ever, his cheeks sharp behind a stub that Harry wants to rip off with his fingers right at this moment. But he purses his lips, and he looks like he’s fighting himself inside his head trying to come up any other way he can solve this problem without ruining Harry’s life completely. 

“I like your clothes. I love them, really. I just-please?” 

“God. You are awful.” He says, but he agrees silently. Only if it is just once. He can do sacrifices if it’s going to get him a good fuck after, he’s not  _ that _ attached to his clothes. “And I hope you change your mind about me fucking my coworkers or  _ anyone _ in this building.” 

“I won’t.”

“Are you sure? What a shame, seriously. I guess I’ll have to get rid of this beautiful fantasy, ah-this desk must be so comfortable. Really, a shame. We could’ve been a great team.” He says, shaking his head while he’s heading out, he doesn’t turn around to see Louis ‘cause he’s sure he would fall to his knees instantly. “Have a nice night, Mr Tomlinson. And behave, I have eyes everywhere.”


	8. Cherry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hugged Lana Del Rey and sawing her live inspired me for this chapter. That's all I have to say.  
> And enjoy this bullshit.

_ Love, I said real love is like feeling no fear  _ _   
_ _ When you’re standing in the face of danger  _ _   
_ _ ‘Cause you just want it so much _ _   
_ _ A touch from your real love  _ _   
_ _ Is like heaven taking the place of something evil  _ _   
_ __ And letting it burn off from the rush, yeah

Rehearsals are something else when there’s a group of hot men eyeing him like they’re not supposed to and the best part about it is that Louis is there with them, sitting in the back of the pub as always, porting a dull stare and the usual black suit that looks painted over his body, like a modern work of art that was build entirely to ruin Harry’s mental health. His friends are fit and they can’t stop watching Harry’s movements while he practices one of his new songs, putting up a private show he didn’t intend to, but isn’t opposed at all now that he’s on the run.

_ Darling, darling, darling _ _   
_ _ I fall to pieces when I’m with you, I fall to pieces _ _   
_ _ My cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme  _ _   
_ __ And all of my peaches are ruined

The routine consists basically on him being seductive. He puts every cell on his body to work hard, one of his hands travelling over the mic stand as he starts to kneel slowly, his head up with pride that comes from his movements, the hand that’s not wrapping around the mic makes its way all over his thigh covered by the soft material of the pair of joggers he is wearing for the first time ever since his aunt insisted on buying them a year ago. 

He truly can’t believe himself. How does he dare follow Louis’ instructions like this? 

When he stands up, everyone is watching him with wide eyes, as if Harry had just put up the show of the year, when the only thing he did was touch himself a little bit more than he usually does. 

He licks his lips, putting the mic on its right place, shaking those stares away to continue with the practice. He can’t get distracted by hot males being in awe with him. That’s usual, that’s what he lives for, really.

_ Love, is it real love?  _ _   
_ _ It’s like smiling when the firing squad’s against you _ _   
_ __ And you just stay lined up, yeah

Apparently, his new routine is brilliant if he has to go by how everyone in the room stopped anything they were doing just to watch him. 

Instead of getting shy, Harry starts to move his hips, even more, trying to compensate the lack of a good outfit that would’ve been the cherry on top of the desert (pun intended). If he is being breathtaking with a pair of awful (and comfortable, he has to admit) joggers and a white cotton crop top hanging over his belly button, he can’t get to imagine how it would have been if he was able to be his whole self.

At least, he could get his nails painted. And, oh well, a dark shade of red lipstick to match issn’t out of the rules Louis set, is it? 

_ My rose garden fiends set on fire by fiends  _ _   
_ _ And all my black beaches are ruined  _ _   
_ _ My celluloid seams are torn at the seams  _ _   
_ _ And I fall to pieces (bitch) _ _   
_ _ I fall to pieces when I’m with you _ _   
_ __ (Why?)

His co-workers are there as well, watching him from behind the bar with creeping smiles and furrowed brows. But his own eyes travel away from them furiously fast to get back to being caught in a pair of blue eyes.

Those ocean eyes are staring right through him, stone cold and alight. Harry could sink, get drown and die. And it would all be worth it. 

_ ‘Cause I love you so much, I fall to pieces _ _   
_ _ My cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme  _ _   
_ _ And all of my peaches are ruined (bitch) _ _   
_ _ Are ruined (bitch) _ _   
_ __ Are ruined (fuck!)

The song ends with a not so subtle moan that left the room in total silence. Harry smiles while everyone claps and cheers for him, Niall’s screams of  _ you’re amazing bro  _ heard over the buzz that fills the room. 

He doesn’t have anything else to rehearse. His dance moves were on point, the reactions to the way he kneeled and touched his body while singing were proof enough that Harry is a great, wonderful, amazing artist. 

He’s about to go to the bar to hang with Zayn and Niall who are watching him with a bit of amusement that Harry doesn’t completely get when he gets intercepted in the middle of his path, a body smaller than his getting in his way and Harry is glad, of course, he is. He would be glad to see Louis even in his worst nightmare. 

A smile creeps to his face as a greeting, but Louis doesn’t seem too into that warm greeting, all sharp features and not a single gesture that indicates that he is happy or at least not mad with what happened.

What could have Harry done this time to get that sort of look? He behaved, he dressed as decent and boring as he could, he gave his best show ever in a rehearsal to Louis’ friends. What could he ask from Harry now? There isn’t anything he hadn’t already given to him, beside his ass, If he has to get technical.

“To your office?” He asks with a sigh, having grown totally familiar with that demand. Louis doesn’t vocally answer like Harry doesn’t deserve that kind of trait, he only nods and starts to walk without checking if he’s being followed.

Of course he’s being followed. Harry’s stupid, stupidly infatuated. He would follow Louis directly to the sun.

Inside the office that he already knows too well for not so pleasant reasons, he leans against the door waiting for Louis to start screaming at him about everything he did wrong. 

Instead, much for his delight, he gets cornered, dark eyes penetrating his. Louis looks like he’s about to bite Harry off, eat him alive in a strangely sexy way. 

“I told you to dress normally. Why do you insist on not following my rules, Harry?” He asks, his chests almost touching from the short distance. Harry is about to faint, to drop to the floor and do some nasty things he shouldn’t be thinking of with Louis so close to him. 

“I did as you asked.” He says, nearly a whisper as he feels intimidated by the smaller body that never looked so gigantic before, Louis’ sharps intakes of breath are taking him of off balance. “I dressed casually.”

“And then what is this?” Asks Louis, his finger touching the flesh over Harr’s hips, goosebumps all over his body until a sharp kind of pain travels right down the same zone. And fuck. Louis just shot of his lingerie that was probably hanging over the low sweats he was wearing. Harry truly hadn’t notice. Fuck. That was the hottest thing to ever happen to him. He’s panting, truly panting, his breath caught at the back of his throat. What can he say? How can he explain? “This is not casual.”

“Yeah um-I don’t…Fuck… I just don’t wear masculine underwear… so… I truly-It wasn’t on purpose. I just… I didn’t notice. It usually gets hidden under my jeans. I’m sorry.”

“My friends kept talking about how hot that must look under your clothes. Fuck” he claims, talking a few steps backwards. Harry’s glad he can breathe again without being afraid. Louis was jealous of his friends seeing him like that,  _ imagining  _ him like that, and he just touched Harry’s underwear like it was nothing out of the ordinary. Fuck. Harry is so turned on he’s probably going to explode, he’s truly glad he’s well tucked in his panties. “If they get near you, you are taken. Alright?” 

“Or what?” He says, getting his confidence back slowly.

“I truly can’t believe you are daring me.” Louis shakes his head in disbelief and Harry wants to kiss him so hard he has to bite his lips to avoid jumping over him. “Hide that underwear, please. At least for now. You know you can wear what you want. I want you to, but now it’s not the right time.”

“You just don’t want them to see it?”

“I don’t want anyone to see you” he admits, and god, he wants Harry dead for sure. “But I’m not your owner. I just wish you followed my rules.”

“Aren’t you? My owner? ‘Cause you sure act like one.”

Louis visibly trembles at that. Harry is for sure a piece of shit. And he is so proud of himself.

“Go back to the pub. And please, please behave.”

“I’ll do as you please Mr Tomlinson. Whenever and whatever.”

The bar is fully clear as the pub is still closed and Harry is really glad. He finds a jar full of cherries floating in a liquid that looks heavy and excessively sweet. He hasn’t got a single doubt that that is Zayn’s work, that little shit always has a trick under his sleeve. 

His underwear is already hidden under the soft cotton of his joggers, but he still checks if everything’s alright, trying to follow Louis’ orders just to please him, to show him that as cheeky as he can be, he’s totally up to do whatever he asks. 

A sneaky hand lands over his upper back that’s naked in between his trousers and his shirt and Harry almost jumps back. 

He turns his head around to find a guy who looks like the personification of positivity. A grin is spread on his face, his skin wrinkled around his mouth and on his forehead. He’s cute, not the kind Harry likes, but the guy seems the type Harry could befriend in a heartbeat. 

“I’m Nick” he says in a pitched, suggestive voice. He sits in the stool next to him, taking his hand away. 

It’s Louis’ friend, he comes to the realization. Nobody else but them and the rest of the employees are on the pub yet, and by the corner of his eyes, he can see Louis leaning on his chair watching them without a single trace of pudor. 

“I’m Harry.”

“Yeah, darling. I know. You smashed it in your rehearsals, can’t wait to see the whole show.” 

“Thanks,” he says, his back to the bar so he can have a full view of the only person he’s interested in in the place. The jar of cherries between him and Nick, who can’t stop looking at him. 

“I’m gonna be blunt here. Sorry for my honesty. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“What is it?” He pushes him to continue, leaning his head to the side so he seems to be paying full attention when actually he’s almost in another dimension. 

Louis’ hand is laying over an empty chair while the rest of his friends are talking, oblivious to the show they have in front of them. Louis looks like a hunter about to jump to his prey’s neck. 

“Are you single?”

How did Louis know that was bound to happen? And how the fuck could he answer that correctly? God, there are so many options. Is it okay to keep going with the jealousy game? Or is it time to step to the other side of the road already? To jump for what he truly wants, show him there’s nothing he wants more.

He truly hopes Louis can read lips.

“I’m sorry, Nick. I’m taken.”

The guy smiles cheekily at him like that was something of his knowledge already. He doesn’t back away, but the way his body is approaching Harry seems different, more friendly.

Louis is still looking at them, and if looks could cause any physical damage, they both would be burning alive. 

He takes his eyes away from his boss to get his attention back to the guy, a smile is creeping on his face, he can’t avoid it. He wants Louis to know he’s in on it, that he would do anything no matter how much he misbehaves.

“Louis really made a good choice with you, little one,” Nick says, he isn’t sure he’s fully talking about his singing skills. “I’m gonna back away now before he kills me. I messed with his boys quite a lot back in the day just to make him go crazy. But let me tell you a secret: he’s not as bad as he pretends, he just likes to pretend nothing and  _ no one _ can get to him.”

Harry thinks about all the times he tried to drive Louis mad, all the times that it worked, and all the times Louis controlled himself around him, looking like he was about to burst like a bomb ticking that was turned off the second it was about to explode.

“I noticed. He’s all bark and no bite, literally,” that gets a laugh out of the man that makes Harry a little proud of himself. He loves when people find him funny. “But thank you, Nick. It was really nice talking to you.”

“You mean it was really nice making Louis jealous?”

“Well, that too.”

He can’t get to look away from his boss, even when Nick sits beside him in the chair Louis has his arm over. He can see how he’s grabbing the wooden material as Nick is leaning over the table to join the conversation Louis doesn’t even pretend to be participating on. 

He feels a presence on his back and it doesn’t take much to figure out it’s Zayn, breathing on his neck, making the hairs on the back of his neck tickle his skin. 

“The cherries, idiot. Use the cherries.”

His lips are a bit dry when he licks them. He drowns his fingers on the jar, taking the delicate stick of a cherry between his thumb and index finger. 

He can’t look away. Neither one of them can look away. Louis looks, as always, at the verge of jumping. Like he’s going to crawl to devour him right there in front of everyone. And Harry can’t look away because he wants him to. 

He puts the cherry between his teeth, the sugar of the liquid arriving at his tongue instantly while he pushes the stick away, sucking the fruit into his mouth. He chews slowly, eyeing every single one of Louis’ movements, how his hand is gripping the chair so fiercely his knuckles turn white, the material of his black suit growing uncomfortably in between his pants.

An enormous effort has to be made from him to not smile right there, as he drops the stick and swallows the rest of the food that’s still in his mouth. 

His fingers are still dripping as he guides them to his own mouth, sucking the index and middle one, a job he’s doing more to tease than that to clean himself. At this point, he’s going to get hard just from seeing Louis bulge growing a little bit more every second. 

His eyes lock and the man leans over himself to hide his arousal. Harry wants to whine like a little child who’s favourite show was taken away from the t.v, replaced for a much boring one, but his fingers are still in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing around them like he professionally would do to Louis cock if he just let him. 

“He’s going to die if you don’t stop right now.”

“That’s good,” he says, taking his fingers away, changing them for the thumb in between his teeth, a cheeky smile spreading on his face while his gaze is still collapsing with the haunting blue that’s going to swallow him like the entire ocean “That was my plan.”


	9. Dark Paradise.

_ All my friends tell me I should move on _ _   
_ _ I’m lying in the ocean, singing your song _ _   
_ _ Ah, that’s how you sing it _ _   
_ _ Loving you forever can’t be wrong _ _   
_ _ Even though you’re not here, won’t move on _ _   
_ __ Ah, that’s how we play it

His hands are still shaking when he gets off the stage taking a long breath that does nothing to calm his sudden nerves, the humid air the room holds making it impossible to get fresh air. The beat of the sad song put everyone’s mood off for a moment, even though he compensated it by finishing with one of his most upbeat record to try to make everyone forget about it.

He doesn’t usually play that one, he keeps it hidden in the solitude of his bedroom, in the chords of his guitar, in the memories of a sad lonely boy who lost his vice and his lover and everything that kept him going. He grew up too fast, coming in too strong into adolescence and forgot about being a child.

_ All my friends ask me why I stay strong _ _   
_ _ Tell them when you find true love it lives on _ _   
_ __ Ah, that’s why I stay here

He couldn’t find Louis during his whole set for one of the first times ever since he started working here. And he’s wearing a glittery see-through pair of pants that show the tiny piece of nude female lingerie he’s wearing under it. Fantastic. Right timing to vanish from earth, Mr Tomlinson.

Of course, he didn’t dress for Louis, Harry dresses for himself mostly, but he wishes Louis would have seen how he rocked that risky outfit and left everyone in awe.

_ And there’s no remedy for memory _ _   
_ _ Your face is like a melody, it won’t leave my head _ _   
_ _ Your soul is haunting me and telling me  _ _   
_ _ That everything’s fine _ _   
_ __ But I wish I was dead

If he comes to think of it. Maybe it’s positive that Louis wasn’t there to see that awful part of his past that still usually tries to make its sweet return, the sadness well hidden behind his cheeky, slutty persona. 

Louis doesn’t have to really see Harry, that could make him run away in a heartbeat. 

Both his parents ran away from him. There’s no doubt a man he has no relation with would do the same. Harry himself would do the same if he could. But that would be kind of breaking the laws of time and space and well, he doesn’t know how.

_ Everytime I close my eyes _ _   
_ _ It’s like a dark paradise _ _   
_ _ No one compares to you _ _   
_ _ I’m scared that you won’t be waiting on the other side _ _   
_ _ Everytime I close my eyes _ _   
_ _ It’s like a dark paradise _ _   
_ _ No one compares to you _ _   
_ __ But there’s no you, except in my dreams tonight.

The people are passing through him like he isn’t there while he keeps his firm path to the bar. Everyone seems mildly occupied and Harry’s not really in the mood to talk so it’s fine, it’s fine ‘cause Louis isn’t there so he doesn’t have to pretend, it’s fine ‘cause the melody of the song is still ringing inside his head like a deadbeat that won’t shut up. It’s going to turn him mad. Maybe, probaby, he already is.

_ There’s no relief, I see you in my sleep _ _   
_ _ And everybody’s rushing me, but I can feel you touching me _ _   
_ _ There’s no release, I feel you in my dreams _ _   
_ __ Telling me I’m fine

The memories are painless at this point. He doesn’t care anymore about what could’ve been because he knows he made the right choice. He moved on, he realised how twisted it was for a man over thirty to take advantage of a kid. But that’s the problem, the lack of pain brings void and he’s not good dealing with void. He needs feelings, he needs to cry and scream and feel like there’s someone ripping his heart off. He needs something to consume him, to melt him, to make him feel something even if it’s terrible, even if he never recovers again from those wounds. 

_ Oh oh oh oh, ah ah ah ah _ _   
_ _ I don’t wanna wake up from this tonight _ _   
_ _ Oh oh oh oh, ah ah ah ah  _ _   
_ __ I don’t wanna wake up from this tonight.

An olive hand tainted with tattoos holds a colourful glass in front of his face and Harry’s already tired of the explanation he’s going to have to give  _ again _ , the constant push of his coworkers of how working in a pub and not drinking alcohol is a sum that ends in  _ error 404, not found _ . 

“Someone bought it for you,” says Zayn who looks already hazy from all the drinks (and the smoke, probably). Harry sighs, long and deep and that’s enough to send his coworker backwards before he bursts and becomes his body to carry. No one wants Harry to be their luggage, and that’s fair. “I warned her. I’m sorry.” 

_ Her _ . It’s convenient, though. Way easier to get rid of. Women tend to be more thoughtful and comprehensive than men. That’s probably one of the features why he only likes them as friends: Harry is a masochist.

“I’m gay, darling” he warns while the girl slips next to the bench he’s sitting in. He doesn’t even have the strength to look at her, his eyes fixed in the glass that looks  _ so _ tempting he could cry. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t that obvious.”

“Oh no, you were!” She answers, and Harry can feel the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. And when he looks, it’s definitely there, delicate round features that have nothing of the sharpness he loves. Eyes that have nothing of the ocean he needs. But that’s another story. “You just looked really sad, it was really bothering, like watching a puppy get kicked and that kind of sad shit.” He laughs, shaking his head in amusement and sliding the drink to her so it won’t go to waste. 

The wetness of the glass starts dripping through his fingers making him keep his hand there for more time than it’s needed. The solution to his void is there, the elixir to the land of no inhibitions, the place in where he could forget about every fucked up thought haunting his mind. 

It’s a gulp away. Just one strong motion and he would have the fruity drink hurrying through his throat, dancing around his blood to make him happy again. It was such a great feeling, why can’t he have that again? Why is he so messed up?

“Good show tonight, love. I hope you are behaving.” 

His hand flies away like all his secrets are being told just by that simple motion. He feels exposed, totally naked in his clothes (he should) and he’s probably red from the shame of Louis being there the whole fucking time, hidden away from Harry’s sight who could have taken advantage of it. 

“I’m always behaving.” 

Zayn interrupts the conversation that they just started sharing, leaning in front of them, right in the middle of the two set of bodies with a smirk that can only mean trouble. Harry wants to shut him the fuck up and he hasn’t even talked yet. 

“Maybe you can convince him to have some fun? He’s being a bitch.” 

“I’m being a bitch?” Harry dares, his eyebrows raised with the irritation that’s taking over him like waves crashing every single one of his bones. “And why’s that?”

“You’re being invited by a nice lady who wants to cheer you up. Stop being a moody, mesterious asshole and take her offer.” 

“You know I don’t drink. You fucking know it. Why do you insist still? I’m not being a bitch. That’s just shitty and I won’t tolerate it.” 

“Louis, could you convince him to have some fun for once?” He insists like his words mean nothing at all, as if Harry’s opinion, his feelings and consent are just mumbles lost in the shitty music that’s playing in the background.

“Yeah mate!” Niall comes in with a grin so big Harry wants to punch him out of his usually sweet face. “You should let yourself enjoy for once. Drink a bit! A beer won’t do no harm.”

He’s so mad he doesn’t even take advantage of that to make a cheeky comment towards Louis. There are so many ways he could have fun with that man, but for the first time since he met him, he’s not in the mood to even think about flirting. 

“He doesn’t have to convince me of anything. I’m my own person and  _ I _ decide what I want. I won’t drink. I don’t need a beer to enjoy myself. Why is that such a problem?”

“Why don’t you tell us the problem?” Says Courtney, her hair up in a ponytail, a smile so fake it makes her lips look like they are about to fall off her face. “Why don’t you drink? Does it have to be such a mystery?”

“Hey, stop there for a-” Louis starts, but Harry puts a hand on his chest shutting him up with just that simple touch. The man looks to his chest completely silenced, like it’s a shock for Harry to touch him when they are not in a flirty state.

“I just don’t like it” he lies and his voice trembles. He can’t deal with this anymore, he can’t deal with the pressure of people who barely even know him at all, he already has too much from his family. It feels like an ambush, he doesn’t even know if he can trust the girl who bought the drink for him. Maybe she sided with all of them, maybe even Louis sided with them to corner him to finally spill his secrets.

“That’s a big fat lie there.” 

“Why the fuck do you think you have the right to know?” He explodes, forgetting about the man sitting next to him who turned into a ghost after Harry stopped him. He hurriedly takes the hand away from his boss’ chest like it’s on fire. “It’s none of your fucking business. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone. So fucking respect it.”

He bursts out of the room in such a rush that he only comes to the realization that he ran away when he’s outside, the freezing cold air making his jaw tremble at the lack of clothes. But he will be in his car soon, in the dark of his room where he can cry without anyone hearing but the pages where he would be writing sad lyrics that would probably get forgotten the next day. 

“Harry! Wait!”

He stops dead in his tracks. The voice, of course,  _ that _ voice. Silly him, thinking he would get some peace after the door closed behind him. 

There’s a hand on his shoulder and the next thing he knows is he’s being pulled into a tight grip, his face hidden in the crook of his boss’ neck, the gentle touches in his lower back sending shivers all around his body. His body feels suddenly on fire, even if he’s shivering from the low temperatures, he’s insides turning into a baby dragon that wants to burst alive. 

“Are you alright?”

“What do you think?” His voice trembles, for god’s sake. He urgently needs to attend some  _ how to develop mental strength _ classes; which is probably labeled as a psychologist. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please. Don’t make me talk about it.”

“I won’t force you to anything. You’re safe with me, alright?” He says and Harry’s body melts in his arms. Soft words were always his weakness. He remembers Nick voice spilling Louis’ darkest secret, a secret he’s exposing to Harry right there. “I promise I’ll talk to them. If they are jerks to you ever again you tell me and I’ll take care of it.”

“This is not kindergarten. You don’t have to protect me.”

“This is my pub. And we all respect you here. That’s a very strict rule.”

A sob got ripped out of his throat and all of a sudden he starts crying in Louis’ neck, dumping his expensive suit with hot tears that he can’t stop from falling as much as he intends to. 

Harry isn’t really sure what he is crying about. If it is the pressure of everyone around him who thinks they have the right to know every single detail about his life, if it is the realization that no matter where he goes nobody will ever get to know him and understand him, if it is the temptation to which he almost succumbs. Or if it is Louis; Louis with touches so soft his interior turned into a puddle of cells that can’t connect between each other. 

“I’m sorry. I’m such a mess. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

The freezing breeze of the New York night is wrapping them both and pushing their bodies even closer to find warmth and comfort. Harry doesn’t want to ever let go, even if that means he’ll freeze to death in Louis’ arms. He’s not opposed to pulling a titanic right here, but he bets he would probably be Rose. And he doesn’t want Louis to die, not yet, not until he knows what his lips taste like and what his hands can do to him in the dark. 

“You don’t have to be sorry. You don’t have to explain anything to me or to anyone else. I want you to be comfortable in here.” 

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he steps back just a little bit so his faces are mere inches apart. Harry wants to kiss him so bad, even when Louis' lips look cracked due to the cold and his own mouth feels pasty after his crying session that took place in the shoulder of the man he wants to fuck. Charming.

“So do you like my outfit?” He asks, trying to lighten the mood, to make both of them forget about what happened even when the tears running down his cheeks are proof enough that everything was, is,  real.

“Yeah baby, I do. Of course I do.” 

A smile shakes its way to his face, his heart beating so fast inside his chest he’s afraid it will run away from his body.

“And the lipstick? Did I cross the line with that one?”

“You look so good in that red lipstick. Women are definitely jealous of how well you can pull it.” 

Harry wants to joke about how good the dark shade of red would look around Louis’ cock, but that’s probably going too far right now when Louis hot fingers keep brushing over his hips to ease his aching. 

“But did it gave you a boner? It doesn’t count if it didn’t.”

Louis laughs and it feels like everything is alive again, like Harry can breathe without choking in the knot around his throat, like it’s not freezing cold anymore and the sun is hitting on their heads that are too close to be something platonic, like the city is completely silenced just for them, the universe collapsed just for them to live this. 

“I almost came in my pants, love.”

“I’ll make an effort so there’s not an almost the next time then.” 


	10. Summertime Sadness.

_ I got my red dress on tonight _ _   
_ _ dancing in the dark in the pale moonlight _ _   
_ _ done my hair up real big, beauty queen style _ _   
_ __ high heels off, I’m feeling alive.

Harry has, indeed, a red t-shirt on. Matching his red painted nails. He feels particularly bright like the sun is closer to the earth and his body is glowing, the most geniune smile he got in years.

The weather outside is  _ New York cold _ and he had to get to the pub on foot. But that, rarely, didn’t put him off. A sense of cleannes took place inside him, washing off the awful memories that came with the reminder of what he used to be. He’s not that way anymore, he’s not that kid. He’s confident and bright, a star lost in the confines of the universe doing its best to shine as bright as posible to blind everyone who comes along his path.

_ Oh my god, I feel it in the air _ _   
_ _ telephone wires above _ _   
_ _ air sizzling like a snare _ _   
_ _ honey I’m on fire, I feel it everywhere _ _   
_ __ Nothing scares me anymore

He makes a good job for it to be obvious who he’s looking at. Louis’ not at the back of the pub this time, but sitting in the stall Harry takes place after every performance, looking at him so concentrated it appears that he’s not even blinking. 

_ Kiss me hard before you go _ _   
_ _ summertime sadness _ _   
_ _ I just wanted you to know _ _   
_ __ that baby, you the best

A smirk appears on his lips just for a milisecond, the fantasy of his boss’ lips hitting his, colliding like two lost stars in an undiscovered part of the galaxy, changing nothing around them but themselves.

_ I’m feeling electric tonight _ _   
_ _ cruising down the coast, going about 99 _ _   
_ _ got my bad baby by my heavenly side _ _   
_ __ I know if I go, I’ll die happy tonight

He feels rather confident that night, swaying peacefully in front of a crowd that cheers for him every time a song finishes. Some girls even know the lyrics of his songs at this point. He’s thankful, flattered even, but at that moment his mind is already lost in fantasies that seem closer every day it passes.

_ Oh my god, I feel it in the air _ _   
_ _ telephone wires above _ _   
_ _ air sizzling like a snare _ _   
_ _ honey I’m on fire, I feel it everywhere _ _   
_ __ Nothing scares me anymore

Nothing scares Harry anymore. Not the public, his family, his coworkers. Not even Louis, with a stare like black holes, painted cerulean that want to suck him in, he can battle them anytime, he could clap his fingers and hypnotize him to do everything he says if he wanted. But this time he wants it right, he’s going to play fair.

_ Kiss me hard before you go _ _   
_ _ summertime sadness _ _   
_ _ I just wanted you to know _ _   
_ __ that baby, you the best

There’s a difference in the air that night. A sense of expectation he can’t shake off while he admires how hot Louis is looking with a cigarette recently lit between his dry lips and his soft hair in a fringe. Not to mention the beard that’s starting to grow after he shaved probably a few days ago. 

Harry’s fingers twitch around the microphone picturing himself wetting that pair of lips, his fingers intertwined in the brownish tufts to mess them around, the skin around his own lips feeling raw from the hairs that rub over it.

_ I got that summertime, summertime sadness _ _   
_ _ su su summertime, summertime sadness _ _   
_ __ got that summertime summertime sadness, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

He doesn’t have to approach Louis, who comes to the tiny place Harry has as his backstage while he’s tidying up his belongings. It’s for sure a convenience that he doesn’t have to head to the bar to get his daily dose of flirting done. His coworkers are long forgiven, that doesn’t mean he wants to hear the endless apologies he knows he’s going to get. 

“Aren’t you going to talk to them?” Louis asks like he just read his mind. Harry smiles even though the man can’t see him, giving his back to him while making sure he has everything in his bag. 

“Not today, but I forgave them. I don’t really care about it anymore. Besides, I should get going before it gets too late. I couldn’t borrow my uncles truck.” 

He puts his bum at the verge of an empty shelf to stare at Louis in the eye for a little while. The man looks even fitter from up close, he looks even fitter each day it passes. He’s truly like a fine wine, one Harry would like to taste sip by sip so he wouldn’t finish it too soon. Being honest, he probably wouldn’t help the temptation. 

“I’ll drive you. You can’t go back by yourself.”

“Why can’t I, dad?” He jokes, but it sounds choked and Louis flushes at the nickname that could mean something much more appealing to them both if Harry dared to change it a little bit. 

“You’re too pretty to walk around New York at one in the morning.”

He shakes his hair in front of his face to hide the blush that creeps to his cheeks when he’s composed again, he interwines his own fingers in it to push it back, to face Louis again with a sided smirk, his eyebrows raised and ready to fight. 

“Are you saying I can’t defend myself?” 

“What I’m saying here Harry is…” he starts, not looking confident at all, a version of Louis Harry’s not accustomed to. It’s adorable, if something, but he doesn’t even want to think about that twice. “I want to take you home and I don’t know how to say it without being too invasive or sounding like a prick.”

Well. That’s something he can work on, finally.

He stares at Louis with a Cheshire Cat smile that almost make his cheeks go numb. 

“How could I say no such an offer? It would be a pleasure, Mr Tomlinson.”

He avoids the bar at all costs while heading out to wait for Louis who’s arranging some boss things that Harry didn’t want to intrude on. A cigarette hangs from his lips to have something to concentrate on while waiting and not look like an idiot standing there. At least he looks like a cool, hot idiot. Hot, judging by the look that passerbys give him and the man that approaches to talk creeping him a little bit. 

Louis comes out minutes later, attaching him to his side with his hand on Harry’s hip, waving off the man with a grin he makes fun of while they head to the black Bugatti Veyron. Black, as if the colour camouflages the expensive nature of the car he owns. Harry’s about to get turned on about the meaning of the whole situation. He is richer than Harry thought, dear god.

He’s not a gold digger, but he wouldn’t be against of a sugar daddy. 

“I have to stop by a friend’s house to grab some papers, do you mind?” He asks already behind the wheel. Harry condescendingly rolls his eyes, but a smile twitches in his mouth with a hint of affection that for sure didn’t go unnoticed by the man.

“You’re driving me in your million dollar car. Take me to LA right now if you want.”

“Did you ever go to LA?” 

The engine is already on and Harry doesn’t know how many blocks away they already are from the pub. Louis looks so good in the dim light of New York streets, behind a wheel covered in leather more expensive than his whole wardrobe. His wardrobe is huge.

“No. I always wanted to go as a kid. My parents always told me they would take me after I turned sixteen. And now that I think about maybe taking me to a boarding school was far cheaper than a two weeks trip to LA. Convenient.”

“It’s cool there. People seem to be genuinely happy, it’s really fresh, you know? I’m planning to open a pub there next summer.”

“So you’ll get rid of us, simple New Yorkers? With too many aspirations that will never come true?” He jokes, but maybe it’s too real and he doesn’t want to think about it. His aspirations are all he has, all he will ever have. “ _ And now you’re in new yorkkk, concrete jungle where dreams are made of, there’s nothing you can’t doooo” _ his palm is placed on his chest while he sharply sings Jay-z’s and Alicia Keys’ song like his life depends on it. “Are you implying they are lying, Louis? I bet people on the radio wouldn’t like to hear your opinion on everyone’s new favourite song.”

“Is everyone favourite song  _ but  _ New Yorkers.” He assures, and Harry can’t contradict him ‘cause he’s right. Harry loves pop and top hits, but that’s a pile of bullshit for sure. “You should be on the radio, not them.”

_ Of course, of fucking course,  _ Harry blushes, opposed to every reaction he really needs his body to process to seem cool and collected; in the list of those acceptable would have been: any other thing that didn’t put him vulnerable. But no, his brain stopped functioning for a second and his body decided to react like a teenager. 

“Which one would you make my single?” His mouth vomits the words off and he thanks himself, even if Louis comment had been almost a year ago before Harry’s answer.

“Off to the races,” Louis says after thinking a little bit about it, Harry’s about to make a joke of it being about a daddy, but Louis rushes to keep talking “No, that’s not-Cherry would be a much better choice. A music video MTV would play if you appeared making your dance routine, or whatever else really, you could be sitting on a chair with a plain background and it’d still be amazing, but it would be much more played if you were to dance in it.”

“My name would truly be ideal for a pop star, wouldn’t it?”

“You would be much more indie.” 

“The newest pop-indie star, Harry Styles.. He’s very sad but really hot and catchy.”

Louis snorts and Harry thinks it’s beautiful. Which it’s truly awkward. 

The car is pulled into a sideway and Harry notices for the first time the rich neighbourhood they are in. That’s how far away from his house they are then.

“It’s just a few minutes. I’ll trust you with my key” he says, leaving the engine on before disappearing with a wink. 

The neighbourhood is an interesting way to distract himself for a few minutes, but the luxury starts to make him dizzy so he decides to get off the car. Louis isn’t near to be seen, and the entrance of the house is quite large, so large Harry can’t quite decipher how much time would it take for Louis to cross it.

His bum is lightly sitting over the horn of the car while he waits. His arms are holding up the upper part of his body while he watches the sky, the lack of tall buildings showing how far inside his mind and Louis being he was in. Leaves covering the few stars that look fuzzy from the pollution of the city, it’s a beautiful sight for someone who can’t have that kind of luxury.

What sounds like a few hurried steps to his way turn to silence from a second to another. Harry opens his eyes, a little worried about being killed, to found Louis staring at him from the curb. His eyes shine a bit under the dim post lights that create a much more dramatic atmosphere. 

Louis licks his own lips like he wants to kiss him; maybe he wants. Harry wants that too.

The man is standing in front of him the next minute, making his way in between Harry’s legs that are now hanging near the floor, Louis’ weigh maintaining him from sliding away from the hood of the car. 

“Can I?” murmurs Louis, he lets go a strangled chuckle.

“I’m not a princess. You can attack my mouth anytime.”

The collision is kind of a fuss, so Harry can’t make out if it really is a collision. Is more of a soft caress and he weirdly likes it, so he has to push the feeling away with a smack much more fierce and teeth in between to start to bruise his lips. He can’t deal with the way Louis’ lips felt much more than the sexual tension playing with them, thankfully, Louis keeps it going and doesn’t push back the softness on him. 

Harry’s hands fall around his bosses neck and over his chest, the cotton black shirt making a tiny ball in his fist while he pushes up to meet him more roughly, pleading silently for a more heated session. He isn’t sure it can be possible without turning it into something bizarre, so he keeps himself like that, hanging from Louis' lips. 

They kiss as they walk around each other, haunting a pray with a thirsty smile that comes from knowing the other is into it. Messing around, sharp, wet, playful tongues. Their tongues are playful in every situation it seems.

The rest of their bodies stay platonically far from each other. Harry can bet that if he was to push his hands inside Louis pants he would be rejected, so he thinks it wouldn’t be that bad to shake away his sexual frustration with a wank or a good fingering if he is  _ that  _ horny when he gets home. He is probably going to be.

“You’re wrong,” Louis assures, he is panting, almost out of breath. Harry is so proud of himself his body shakes with joy. “You’re kind of a princess.”

Louis feels like deep diving and saving puppies from living on the streets. Harry is still fuzzing on him, on desire and electricity. 

“Well, who said a princess doesn’t have her kinks?”


	11. This Is What Makes Us Girls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!! Good morning/evening/night/whatever it is where you’re reading this right now. I don’t know if I said it before but English is not my main language so I’m looking for someone who is willing to help me check the chapters before I put them here, just to make sure there’s no grammar or times mistakes. If any of you would like to help me please let me know! Thank you so much, enjoy!!!

_ Remember how we used to party up all night _ _   
_ _ Sneaking out and looking for a taste of real life _ _   
_ _ Drinking in the small town firelight  _ _   
_ __ (Pabst blue ribbon on ice)

He is buzzing the entire hour that is given for him to perform. He didn’t see Louis when he arrived at the bar with a smile that took everyone guards off, avoiding to provide apologies like Harry was a wild animal that would go off on them if pushed the wrong button. They couldn’t be more wrong, there would be nothing that could put him down from the cloud he is living in since the night before, since those lips sealed a pact on his, a game he’s going to enjoy until the last second.

_ Sweet sixteen and we had arrived _ _   
_ _ Walking down the street as they whistle, hi hi _ _   
_ _ Stealin’ police cars with the senior guys _ _   
_ __ Teachers said we’d never make it out alive

Harry touches himself on stage as he would with Louis right in front of him, ‘cause he’s there, somewhere, he’s always there when Harry’s performing like he’s some addictive drug his boss can’t get rid off. He smiles at the thought of being addictive, of being the main source of desire in the man’s mind.

_ There she was my new best friend, _ _   
_ _ High heels in her hand, swaying in the wind _ _   
_ _ When she starts to cry, mascara running down her little bambi eyes _ _   
_ __ Darling, how I hate those guys

The story is playing in the back of his eyes while he moves around the tiny stage. He can recall every feeling of that night, the black stain in his hands when he cleaned his friend’s cheek and hugged her ‘til both of their bodies went sore with the freezing temperatures the city held 

They were only fourteen and she was one of the most important persons in his life. Harry didn’t see her again after that day; his parents sent him away right the next morning and he was silently glad about it, the shame and guilt was too much for him to handle and he was afraid he would spit the truth out if he were to see her again. 

_ This is what makes us girls _ _   
_ _ We don’t look for heaven and we put our love first _ _   
_ _ Something that we’d die for it’s a curse _ _   
_ _ Don’t cry about it, don’t cry about it _ _   
_ _ This is what makes us girls _ _   
_ _ We don’t stick together ‘cause we put our love first _ _   
_ _ Don’t cry about it, don’t cry about it _ _   
_ __ It’s all gonna happen

His vision starts to blur; that’s why he hardly performs thia song and, ‘cause he’s a damn masochist who doesn’t deserve to be happy, he usually does it when he’s feeling too blissful, a reminder that he took love away from someone he said to love.

_ And that’s where the beginning of the end begun _ _   
_ _ Everybody knew that we had too much fun _ _   
_ _ We were skipping school and drinking on the job _ _   
_ _ (with the boss) _ _   
_ _ Sweet sixteen and we had arrived _ _   
_ _ Baby’s table dancing at the local dive _ _   
_ _ Cheering our names in the pink spotlight _ _   
_ __ Drinking cherry schnapps in the velvet night

The air is turning too hot around him so he unbuttons the third button of his red translucent shirt, gaining a couple of screams and whistles that he doesn’t have a proof, but also doesn’t have a doubt, come from Niall and Courtney. 

He’s brought back to reality for a second, the smell of fruity alcohol and mixed perfumes, the way his feet move comfortably around the stage like he was made for this. He  _ is _ made for this. 

Harry may not be that reckless teenager anymore, but he’s still not sure if he wouldn’t do it again, if the temptation wouldn’t win over him. After all, love and lust are his Achilles heel. 

_ Know we used to go break in _ _   
_ _ To the hotel pool, glittering we’d swim _ _   
_ _ Running from the cops in our black bikini tops  _ _   
_ _ Screaming get us while we’re hot, get us while we’re hot _ _   
_ __ (come on take a shot)

That night will forever be a blur after the incessant crying of Cassie that Harry got to stop at some point with the only thing they knew worked on them both: alcohol. That was Harry’s top solution for everything. And was he really that wrong? He would kill for a shot to forget about her right at this moment, about her sad twinkling eyes under the dim moonlight while she told him  _ I don’t know what I’d do without you H _ .

_ The prettiest in crowd that you had ever seen _ _   
_ _ Ribbons in our hair and our eyes gleamed mean _ _   
_ _ A freshmen generation of degenerate beauty queens _ _   
_ _ And you know something? _ _   
_ _ They were the only friends I’ve ever had _ _   
_ _ We got into trouble and when stuff got bad _ _   
_ _ I got sent away, I was waving on a train platform _ _   
_ __ Crying ‘cause I know I’m never coming back.

He swallows the lump in his throat, his feet moving without his mind telling him where to head. He feels like a robot and he hates that so much. He was made to feel, to sense his blood running through his veins with anger, passion, sadness. He would take whatever of those until his chest suffer as if going to get ripped apart. 

What he can’t stand is emptiness and he knows what,  _ who,  _ the solution is right now. 

When he arrives at the bar Niall is already expecting him with a big smile and a huge hug that makes the both of them stumble a little bit. He accepts the show of affection but doesn’t ask where it comes from, he’s not sure he wants to dive in that conversation.

“As much as I would like to hear a story, Louis’s asked me to tell you he’ll be expecting you at his office. You better behave, kid!”

Harry laughs at his innocence and tries to back away from the bar without looking too desperate to meet their boss. But he is desperate, so as much as he tries to hide it he truly wouldn’t care if they notice how his feet stumble through the small crowd until he reaches the door that seemed miles away minutes ago.

Louis sits in his office chair like it’s his throne. He’s glowing under the yellow warm light, his features soft like a caress, his lips shiny like he just licked them right before Harry entered without knocking. 

He’s looking at Harry with concentration, eyes fixed a little longer than necessary on his displayed nipples. The blue is barely there, he can’t tell if it comes from the lack of light or his sudden presence in the room. 

“Niall said you wanted to see me, Mr Tomlinson?” He plays with a gentle smile, his body buzzing all over again with expectation. 

He stands with his hands in the back of the wooden chair, a flirty smile that comes with the reminders of their last meeting. Louis lips still burn on his; last night Harry dreamt about being in love again, it was kind of weird and a little bit fuzzy after he woke up, but there was a man, there were fingers and velvet lips and contagious laughter.

“About your song...” he shifts in his seat, leaning back like that’s going to show how chill about the conversation he is. He’s not fooling Harry. “This is what makes us girls? Ummm.” 

“We don’t look for heaven ‘cause we put our love first?” he continues with a grin, walking around the desk so he’s inches away from Louis. 

“Yeah, that… is there something-?”

He’s interrupted when Harry drops over his legs with class, fully sitting on his lap. Even Harry is a bit overwhelmed by the situation but still manages well enough to put his steady hands on the back of Louis’ neck, who trembles under his touch. His eyes look kind of lost, like a broken compass that doesn’t find the right cordenates. 

“You were telling me?” He speaks, expecting Louis to continue while Harry gets delighted on his smell, trying to get wrapped in the scent by nuzzling his neck in silky movements.

“Do you want to be called she? Is that... what you meant?”

“Would you like that?” His raised brows and his tiny smile are enough to make Louis fidget with Harry’s translucent shirt. He’s so endeared is disgusting. “Would that make you want me?”

“I wouldn’t mind, Harry,” he says, sounding afflicted, like what Harry said was an insult “It’s not about me. It’s about who you are. I would want you in any way you’re comfortable with yourself.” 

“I go with he/him. For now, at least, I’m pretty comfortable with who I am.” He answers to give Louis what he’s asking for and to dismiss the fact that his chest has gone warm under his words.

“Alright. Great…I just wanted you to know it’s okay, alright? You can come to me if someone is nasty with you for whatever reason.” 

“I know it’s alright. And I’ll keep it in mind” he concludes, smiling at Louis without a trace of mischief. He attacks his neck with a loud smack and finally the man grips his body like it’s a lifeline. “It’s about falling for men who don’t want you.” 

“What?” 

“The song. That’s what it’s about.”

“But who wouldn’t want you?” He sounds truly shocked and Harry never wanted to kiss someone this fiercely. 

“You would be surprised. But it’s not about me, not entirely. I think it’s a story for another time.”

“I’ll be waiting for it.”

He drops to his knees without thinking about it twice. He wants to kiss Louis, but he will have to do with his dick now, hard under the soft material of his suit. 

Harry gets rid of everything in their way eagerly like he’s unwrapping a Christmas present. He doesn’t recall a time where a Christmas present excited him this much. 

It’s heavy in his hand and he takes a second to admire it. The tip red and glowing with pre-cum that’s dripping in his fingertips. He licks it sweetly like he hasn’t been wanking about choking on it since the first time he saw him. 

“Fuck, baby,” Louis says and that’s when Harry sinks in, taking it fully into his mouth without anticipation. It’s big and he chokes a bit when it hits his throat, but his body jerks with desire. He looks up, finding Louis’ eyes on him. He can’t find the ocean, instead there’s a black hole in each of his eyeballs and it’s so hot Harry whines over his member. “You’re sinful. You’re so pretty. You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth” he continues while Harry bobs his head up and down professionally, looking at him through his eyelashes that turned wet when he deepthroated. “I dreamt about this for so long, fuck. My imagination doesn’t do you justice.” 

“Fuck my mouth” he gasps with a broken voice, putting his head on Louis' thigh to rest it. They’re looking at each other electrically, Harry’s afraid the room is going to catch fire at any moment. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” He’s being polite and Harry smiles at him with ease. Now he wants it more than ever.

“Yeah, please” he begs again, and just a second later he has Louis’ dick hitting his chin. 

He kisses the tip with a smile while Louis grabs his hair roughly. Just seconds later he’s thrusting inside his mouth without hesitation. Harry palms himself through his skinny jeans to find them wet where the tip is placed. He’s about to come himself, inside his pants. He feels so humiliated that it turns him on even more. 

“You would let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you love?” Harry wants to agree, but the tip of Louis’ cock is hitting his throat roughly so he can only whimper constantly. “I’m gonna come soon,” he says, and with that Harry pulls his head down himself so Louis can get the hint. “Want me to come inside your mouth?” He whines again, it’s so needy, so pathetic, so hot. “You feel so good. You’re so good.”

With that, Harry comes. He comes inside his pants and there’s no much he can do but to shift constantly over his knees while Louis fucks one last time into his mouth and stays there, coming, hitting his throat with the salty substance that starts dripping from the corner of his lips a second later when he pulls back. 

He’s not only coming down from his own orgasm but he’s swallowing Louis’ cum as well. That’s what a good day at work must feel like, he thinks. 

He finds himself over Louis lap again but it wasn’t his legs that took him there but Louis, who’s taking the curls out of his face to look at him properly. Harry must look so wrecked, he feels wrecked. His lips are numb from the roughness, shiny and swollen, he bets, he doesn’t even have to see himself to know it. And Louis looks a bit taken aback by the image. 

“You’re wonderful. I hope you’ve been told that every time.” 

“Were my services that satisfying?” He jokes, but Louis doesn’t laugh, instead, he puts his hands over Harry sensitive dick and he whimpers again, backing away from the touch. “I finished” he declares, hiding away in Louis’ neck to hide the blush on his cheeks “wasn’t that hard. You’re really hot, Mr Tomlinson.”

“You’re really hot as well, darling. You can’t even imagine how much.”

“Well,” he says, pulling away with a cheeky smile after composing himself, or pretending to at least. He’s trying not to process the situation or else he is going to lose his mind “I have to head off now.”

“Don’t I get a kiss?” Louis says with borrowed brows and Harry almost turns into a puddle right there. His body is already soft, it wouldn’t be that hard.

“I probably taste awful,” he says with a smile, but he leans in anyway.

“You probably taste like me, I’m sure I won’t mind” he backfires in a slow voice like he’s telling him a secret; Harry can’t spend another second without Louis’ lips on his.

The kiss is soft from the tiredness, wet sounds fill the air, the smaks from their mouth that lingers static in between the outworn movements. Louis’ few days stubble brushes over his chin, tickling the skin over his upper lip; he giggles a little bit and can feel Louis smiling against his mouth. 

Harry’s wrapping his arm around his boss shoulders while he holds him in place by grabbing his waist with a little pressure to anchor him over his lap. It’s not like Harry wants to move away anytime soon.

But he has to, ‘cause Louis can become too much and Harry doesn’t know how to handle that many emotions in so little time. So he kisses him again, shortly, little smacks in between smiles that he doesn’t want to deepen on to not get scared shitless and never make a return to the pub.

When he finally backs away, Louis is looking at him like he just hung the moon, his lips swollen and bright pink from the kissing; Harry nearly drops to his knees all over again.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Louis asks with his hand on Harry’s hip so he can’t escape without an answer. 

“I work here, don’t I?”


	12. Be My Daddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!!! I hope you’re having a good day. I quite liked this chapter, and as always, I’m sorry if there’s any grammar, tense or spelling mistake. I re-read it like three times but I’m not an English native and this is what happens when you don’t have a beta. Anywayyyy enjoy!!! And let me know in the comments how you’re liking the fic, or not (but be nice!!!) I love getting feedback

The effort he put on his outfit was received as he expected, as it deserves. The tight pants are quite comfortable if he’s honest. They’re completely black, but instead of hiding his silhouette, they show it like the cloth is stitched around his muscular legs, but most importantly, of course, his ass is looking so good he almost got hard at his own image before he left. The temptation to finger himself had to be left aside by the clock ticking, a reminder of how short of time he was to arrive punctually.

He got jokingly cat called by his coworkers as soon as he put a foot into the pub, taking his black coat off to get adjusted to the heating didn’t do much to help the situation, driving the attention to himself even more by giving a full display of his  _ too _ flamboyant and  _ too  _ gay outfit. He hates stereotypes, but he guesses he can make a stereotype of himself and his community without being offensive.

Niall joked, ‘cause that’s what Niall does: ease the tension, flirt without really flirting, making sure to always end up a  _ totally homo _ sentence with a “bro”. 

Tristan and Wendy smiled at him, eyeing his movements from afar from time to time, looking kind of scared or overwhelmed. Harry couldn’t place what they were really thinking about, not like he truly cared anyway. 

Though he likes the attention, loves it really, it can get kind of overwhelming sometimes. Zayn and Courtney were giving it to him like they hadn’t seen another good looking (and well dressed) human being in ages. 

The touches from both of them were quite out of place. Mostly coming from the girl, who wandered through his exposed chest, playing with the neck of the sparkly purple blouse made of sequins, smiling at him from her shorter height, a smile of affection that hid a bit of desire, one he couldn’t reciprocate as much as he wanted to, to at least look polite. She mumbled something through her teeth but he couldn’t quite catch what she was saying; probably a praise he had heard a million times already. That girl truly didn’t give up and he’s running out of patience to explain how he will never be into her that way, as much as he likes her as a person; though he’s not so sure about that either. 

Zayn, on the other hand, was grabbing him by the waist, fingers trailing from his hips to the high waist of his pants, sliding carefully as he didn’t know where to go first. Harry knew he was totally submerged in his ass without even having to look at him, but Zayn is his exception. He would let him do whatever he likes to his body while remaining platonic; so he felt quite comfortable with the soft caresses that he’s not used to receiving. People tend to be rough with his body, using him like a rag doll to satisfy their needs. Zayn’s company became one of his favourites in the last couple of months. 

And now there’s Louis. Louis who’s looking at him like he’s Aphrodite. 

_ Lying on the the beach and the hot sun _ _   
_ _ Yeah, I want you _ _   
_ _ If you have forgotten how to have fun _ _   
_ __ Well, I’ll show you

Harry danced around the stage trying to avoid looking at him until this song came to play, a song he wrote the past week while the memories of the few little and so meaningful things exploited his mind every second of the day. Harry couldn’t even breathe away from them, every task he made was filled with Louis, filled with lips, tongues, vanilla taste, orgasms, tender whispers with rough voices.

_ You rich and I’m wishing um _ _   
_ _ You could be my mister _ _   
_ _ Delicious to the maximum _ _   
_ _ Chew you up like bubblegum _ _   
_ _ You love me, he wants me _ _   
_ __ I think I want you too   
  
When he starts to pay attention to the crowd again, Louis is much closer to the stage. His usually hidden eyes are now on full display, showing Harry every drop of lust, every emotion like an open book. Dark blue is shining like a clear night where the stars would shine brightly; those were the best nights, Harry recalls. Those were the nights he spent with his friends on the school courtyard, sneaking after curfew to enjoy the universe’s beauty while passing a crappy joint. Now, he may not have the place to find that kind of nights again in the middle of a polluted city, but Louis’ eyes could be a magnificent replacement. Not a replacement even, maybe those eyes are even better than the marvellous views the universe can provide. 

_ You can be my daddy tonight, night, night _ _   
_ _ I’m neon phosphorescent _ _   
_ _ Open like a christmas present, now _ _   
_ _ You can be my daddy tonight, night, night _ _   
_ _ If you’re seeking heaven _ _   
_ _ Then you wanna come and get it alright _ _   
_ __ Be my daddy tonight

Under the passionate stare, Harry feels like venus, like the ruler of love, the epitome of beauty, a flower about to bloom and blind every single living thing around him. He could burst into flames right over that stage while he’s being looked at that way. His body moves like it’s a bigger part of the universe, the reincarnation of something much bigger than a simple human begging to feel something. 

_ I see you shining bright with your gold chain on _ _   
_ _ Drinking with your crew _ _   
_ _ I give you one look and you know that it’s on _ _   
_ __ Yes you do

Harry is feeling, thanks to god, thanks to every astro on the universe, Harry is  _ feeling things _ . Louis makes him feel things, and he’s kind of afraid, but he likes to be afraid, he has always been so into being at the verge of running away and never come back. He wants to stay, is the thing, he wants to jump over Louis’ arms and kiss him until their lips feel about to fall off, their boners too much to handle without receiving attention, their breath, their body, their minds all over the place, tangling together in the foggy air around them.

_ He’s rich and I’m kissing him, magical musician, how we _ _   
_ _ Driving through the cinema, taste like sugar cinnamon _ _   
_ _ Hey baby, _ _   
_ _ Come take me _ _   
_ __ I’ll go anywhere with you.

Their gazes lock for a couple of seconds, Harry smirks at him briefly before backing off to guide his attention somewhere else, away from the man he’s singing to. He wanders around the stage for another two songs he already sang a couple of times; he changes his setlist quite frequently, a strategic move to not raise suspicions about the new songs he is writing about a certain man he can’t take his mind away from.

When he’s done, as usual, he heads to the bar where everyone is acting a bit jumpy. To Harry, they all seem to be high on coke, quite different from the usual mood where the laughter and sloppy dancing takes over the place.

The bar is empty and so is his stall. Zayn is talking to Wendy at the other end but before he goes to grab his phone to get a distraction Niall jumps out of the blue with a golden retriever smile and bright cerulean eyes that seem keen on having a fun conversation. His pupils aren’t blown wide, as Courtney’s, who’s passing behind them with her gaze set on a point that’s luring her like she’s been hypnotized. 

“You looked beautiful” he starts.  _ No homo _ , Harry bites his lips not to say, but the smile creeps on the corner of his mouth anyway. “You always look good, don’t take me wrong, but tonight is different” his eyes get fixed in Harry’s exposed chest. He’s now starting to notice how itchy the skin covered by the cloth is getting. “How can that outfit fit you so well? I’d look like a clown.”

“‘Cause I’m gay. And I always go for dramatics, nobody’s really impressed that I’m wearing this.”

“You’re right, no one’s shocked about it, but they still wanna do you since the minute they put an eye on your thighs.” Harry laughs but knows it’s true. He can see how the boys and the girls look at him from their sits, he watches their eyes travelling, moving like they don’t know what to do with their bodies, whispering over the tables while they eye him like all they want to do is eat him alive.

“It’s a shame for them” he jokes, licking his lips at the thought of the only person he wants to please. “I’m not sure I’ll ever wear this again. It fucking itches man, my skin wants to crawl out of my body.”

The bickering went along with the night. Niall laughed every time he had to refuse a drink from a stranger, confesed about Zayn getting coke from a costumer and how every one of them consumed a bit except him, who apparently hated strong drugs. He even pretended to be Harry’s boyfriend at one point, when men were being too persistent on trying to get a change with the feminine boy who was apparently the star of the night. There were a couple of girls as well that probably already knew about his preferences, but  probably bet their friends they could at least make him dance with them. 

Nobody is that oblivious, they all know, they all heard Harry being into men, but he’s not going to complain if those offers bring the secondary effect of the attention he really wants.

“That one was cute” he’s really doubting about Niall’s sexuality at this point. “Why do you keep refusing all of them? I get the girls. Man, what I’d do to have that many birds looking for my attention. But why the men? They really looked pretty into you. You could easily point a finger at anyone in the crowd and bang!” he exclaims so suddenly Harry jumps on his stall “You’d have him.”

“‘Cause he doesn’t want them, Niall” as usual, Zayn floats out of nowhere putting the mystery on display with five simple words. He slenderly leans on the bar, exchanging looks between the both of them with a stoned face. 

“But why?” Insists Niall, looking really lost, like Zayn put some kind of jigsaw he can’t resolve inside his head. “Why don’t you want any of them?”

“They are boring” he settles for, not wanting to give away the real reason. “I need passion, Niall. I need fire.”

The thing is, now that he has Louis, that he had a glimpse of what it is to be close to the man, he doesn’t want anyone else to find out by words. It’s fun to sneak away, to look over their shoulders trying to silently find the other without giving much away, to share knowing looks about what happened behind closed doors. 

“Leave him be, Niall. He’ll settle for someone one day.” Zayn says, finding closure to the conversation. Harry would have made a sneaky remark if he wasn’t still so fuzzy about the few memories replaying in his mind. 

The hours passed rarely quickly. He had a smoke with Zayn during his break that left him foggy for the rest of the night, so every other chat he had is now a blur in his mind. He recalls Wendy trying to make a warm conversation but him not following her lead not out of attempt, he wanted to talk to her but the minute two words left her mouth his mind was already flying all the way around the world. There were Courtney and Tristan as well, but those are even more erased, selectively erased, he thinks. 

He’s starting to make a mental list of his favourite people from the pub to his least favourite when he realizes that he’s all alone in there. 

The music shuts off suddenly and he jumps off of his stall, chest tight from paranoia. Where is everyone? Why did they leave him alone all of a sudden, without even a small warning?

He takes his phone from his pocket, there’s not a single notification but the clock marks it’s three AM. Time to close, it is. But couldn’t they see he was still here?

“Were you waiting for me?” He looks around the place to find him. Louis’s coming out from the door that leads to his office, his hair a mess where he obviously traced his fingers through, there’s grey bags under his eyes that make him look a little bit older, but he’s still stunning with his tie hanging loose and his button up a little bit un-buttoned up. “I bet everyone offered you a ride while heading out.”

They probably did offer, he can’t remember to be honest. It’s like his brain shut down for a couple of minutes, but still, he smiles at Louis, every trail of fear and paranoia gone under the sweet tired voice wrapping him like a wing. 

“You look like you need a ride” they both smile tiredly, the long night crawling inside them. His own limbs feel sore and the boots are hurting his fingers but he doesn’t want to leave now. He doesn’t want to leave never. “I want to dance. Do you wanna dance?”

The man’s laugh is strong, turning him soft in his feet. Harry winks with a sided smile, they both know right away there’s no sexual innuendos behind the gesture. 

“There’s no music. Besides, I don’t know how to dance, love. I’d probably step on your feet or make a fool out of myself.”

“And why would that be a problem?” He says, searching on his favourite playlist until he finds the one he feels like to live this moment to. “We can just dance to this.”

While the beat starts to nearly fill the place, not even comparing to the loudspeakers their ears got used to, he wraps a hand around Louis’s plain black tie, pushing their bodies together in a slow sexy motion that is mostly pretended. He’s just trying to have a laugh and a little time alone after a long night which is much more terrifying than wanting to seduce him.

His hips move slowly to the beat, pushing against Louis’s leg. He smiles while looking at him, the end of his lips twitching a little bit when he sees the uncoordinated moves the man has settled for. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” he says, wrapping an arm around his waist tenderly, like he’s trying to keep Harry close to his body to just feel him. It isn’t a sexual move at all and his heart wants to jump out of his chest and run away forever at how they are both on the same page so easily here. “It isn’t fair that you get to be all beautiful all the time. You just can’t go out and about in life laughing at people’s faces ‘cause they don’t have your grace.”

He throws his head back in laughter, but what he truly wants to do is cuddle him, burn to ashes under his arms and reborn like a phoenix to fly above his body for the rest of his not human life. 

“It’s not like that. You haven’t seen me when I wake up. Is like Hades is being thrown away from the afterworld. Besides I’m ‘all beautiful’” he mocks, they are still moving at the peace of the music, though they are both more concentrated on how to gravitate around the other “‘cause I take time to get ready and look pretty.”

“You look wonderful tonight, babe.”

“I know but it itches!” he whines, a pout making its way to his face. Louis looks at his lips for a second before returning the ocean glare up where his eyes meet. He’s smiling like Harry is the most adorable thing in the world, which he doesn’t intend to be at all. “What? It’s true! Fashion is not comfortable Lou. I just want to wear a jumper right now.”

“God what I’d do to see you wearing a jumper.”

“To laugh at me?” In that very moment, the song gets to his favourite part, so he twirls his body like they never felt out of rhythm, Louis grabs his hands letting Harry drag him, drawing circles around the tables that are yet to be cleaned. “ _ She’ll take your heart back you won’t feel it!” _

“ _ It’s the only way you’ll ever knoooooow”  _ Louis joins, his voice sounds raspy besides Phil Collins’, smiling while he pushes their bodies together, hips attached moving faster as the song is getting to the end. “ _ She’s like no other, before you know it you’ll be on your knees.” _

“ _ You’ll be down on your knees!”  _ He sings the chorus, a smile of comfort making its way to his face. His forehead is resting against Louis’, their noses almost touching, breath lost after running around meanwhile singing and dancing. Harry is used to that, so he’s pretty sure that’s not the case why his breath is so heavy, but Louis grip, and Louis' eyes, and the obvious way he was singing that  _ about _ Harry.

He’s so glad he’s there looking at him the same way Harry is thinking of him,  _ I don’t ever wanna leave this moment. _

“Lou?” he mumbles in the deathly silence. It’s probably time to make out a little bit, but they will have time to do that in the empty streets against the expensive car door. “I didn’t know you could sing. Why are you hiding those dirty secrets from me?” 

He’s ranting, his own mind is ranting. That’s not what he wanted to say but his mouth is blurting out words and he can’t stop it. He is still probably a little bit high. Or his mind is.

“I totally can’t sing babe, is your hearing right? We’ll have to take you to the doctor.”

“Well,  _ babe _ , in my professional opinion I can totally assure you that my hearing is doing wonders. So is your voice.”

“You’re totally high. I have to talk to Zayn about this.”

“No! He has good weed. I love good weed, it makes me flyyyy,” he answers, by mimicking the moves while keeping on rhythm.

“I have good weed as well!”

“What?” He spurts out, his hands on Louis’ shoulders. He’s overreacting on purpose to make him mad. Louis gets easily mad and Harry loves to see him explode about meaningless things. “ _ You _ have good weed?”

“What? I’m not cool enough to smoke weed?” Harry smiles, the answer itching in his tongue, but Louis shushes him off accompanied with a warning glare “You know what? Don’t answer. I don’t know why I even have to prove myself here.”

“You’ll have to share with me so I can tell you how much cooler than Zayn you actually are.”

“You’re a piece of shit” he’s smiling, taking Harry by the hand to grab his personal stuff, putting the coat over his shoulders and the phone on his pants front pocket. “And you had enough for today.”

“Okay, dad” he jokes, but he’s feeling too mischevious to let this opportunity go. “You know what, Louis?” he’s leaning beside the pub’s door while Louis is closing it, making sure is securely locked. He looks at him warily, as if he knows exactly what Harry is going to say the next second. “You actually are like a dad to me.”

“Isn’t that your uncle?” The choking sound is almost perfectly hidden by the question that tickles his insides, even more, adding fuel to the fire. 

“Well, yes. You’re right.” He gives in, resting his head on his shoulder as they start to walk to Louis’ car. Harry’s thankful his uncle’s car is broken and his aunt dropped him on her way. “He’s like my dad, so you would be my daddy then.”


	13. Gods and Monsters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while but I was editing every chapter on this fic. I changed some minimal things on the plot, like their ages (now Harry's 21 and Louis's 27 'cause I felt like it and decided to re-read everything all over again to adapt it).   
> Still, nothing major was changed. The fic is still trash. I'm still trash. But they fuck in this chapter so enjoy the trashy smut <3

_ In the land of gods and monsters, I was an angel _ _   
_ _ Living in the garden of evil  _

His back is fully rested on Louis desk. Everything is foggy around them. The air polluted from the smoke session that Louis promised him; an obvious move of a tingling jealousy towards how confident he felt around Zayn. 

Louis is fire and every little thing he touches gets turned to gold. 

The demo of the song is playing softly on the background after Louis almost begged him to sing a song for him. So of course, Harry, as wise as ever, chose the best one to fit the atmosphere. 

The man is sitting on his chair, his throne, looking at Harry with red eyes and a smile that shows a lot of emotions he cannot comprehend in that very moment. Maybe admiration, or lust. A little bit of both, and a little bit of other things the charged moment shouldn’t held.

_ Screwed up, scared, doing everything that I needed _ _   
_ _ Shining like a fiery beacon, _ _   
_ _ You got that medicine I need,  _ _   
_ _ Fame, liquor, love give it to me slowly, _ _   
_ _ Put your hands on my waist, do it softly _ _   
_ __ Me and god don’t get along, so now I sing.

His column is starting to hurt on that position, so he sits slowly on the edge of the desk, right in front of Louis who can’t seem to stop looking at him like he created every single particle the universe holds with the power of his voice.

_ No one’s gonna take my soul away, _ _   
_ _ Living like Jim Morrison. _ _   
_ _ Headed towards a fucked up holiday. _ _   
_ _ Motel, sprees, sprees, and I’m singing, _ _   
_ _ Fuck yeah give it to me, this is heaven, what I truly want _ _   
_ _ It's innocence lost. _ _   
_ __ Innocence lost.

He chews his gum silently, making a big bubble while the melody he, on his very own, produced, surrounds them in heat, wraps them around every thought they can't seem to articulate for the sake of their lust, the sake of Harry's mind that’s screaming Louis name over and over and over.

So, as he expected, Louis doesn't move an inch. But Harry does, he moves to unbutton his red silky shirt, exposing the butterfly laying on his belly, his nipples red and hard. He pinches the right one and he could swear, while he wears a tiny mischievous smile, that Louis lost his breath for a moment. 

_ In the land of gods and monsters, _ _   
_ _ I was an angel, lookin' to get fucked hard. _ _   
_ _ Like a groupie incognito posing as a real singer, _ _   
_ __ Life imitates art

He takes the gum out of his mouth stretching it out around his teeth that are forming a smirk. Harry doesn't have to think twice before pasting it under the desk.

_ You got that medicine I need _ _   
_ _ Dope, shoot it up straight to the heart please _ _   
_ _ I don't really wanna know what's good for me _ _   
_ __ God's dead, I said 'baby that's alright with me'.

Harry goes to unplug the stereo and they are filled with thick silence. The air could be cut with a knife, the sexual tension so palpable it would turn on every last living being that entered the room. 

“So…” Harry says, his bum hanging at the edge of the desk. Louis’ stare is burning him alive, an ocean made of the hottest fire the universe could convey. “Are you gonna fuck me, Mr Tomlinson? 'cause I'm quite on the mood and I wouldn't be satisfied anywhere else.”

“With anyone else, I hope you mean” he answers, stoic and hard. He's trying to compose himself, order his thoughts before displaying them for Harry to twist and play and live. 

“Anywhere else. I'm quite fond of this desk. It would be such a joy to baptize it like that.”

“Baptize it?” Louis asks, his eyes flickering over Harry's body like he's deciding what to do first. “Take off your trousers” he orders and Harry obeys, almost beaming. He keeps every emotion collected, though, while the skinny jeans travel down his thighs, exposing his clear skin to the open. Louis’ stare travels down with his hands, and Harry can't look away from the burning stare that would gladly eat him alive if he could. “What makes you think you're the first one here?”

It's not a malice question, but it burns in his chest with feelings Harry doesn't want to linger in. His mind is foggy and twisted, he shouldn't have had so much drug, the mixture of weed and Louis eyes, Louis voice, Louis life as a whole, are kind of taking a toll on his emotions. 

“I don't have to be” he leans slightly back over the desk, exposing the front of his female lingerie to Louis. Exposing himself for the man to see, to touch, to desire. “You're hardly the first one in many aspects. Now, are you going to be one at all? Or should I call Zayn? I don't think he would mind-”

He shuts up abruptly when his body is turned over in less time it takes a human being to blink. His bum is exposed for Louis to take, for Louis to spank as he does on his left cheek, leaving a sting and the echo of Harry's own involuntary moan.  _ Yes, yes, yes  _ he wants to scream. That's what he was talking about. 

“Yes,” he says and it sounds like begging, as Louis lands another spank on his other cheek. His front is laying completely on the desk, his cheek pressed over the cold wood, dick so trapped between his own body and the friction from the piece of furniture it would be impossible for him to come. “Yes, Mr Tomlinson. That's exactly what I need from you.”

“You don't need Zayn anymore, baby?” 

A finger travels down his crack, making him gasp in anticipation. The lace is not trapped between his cheeks anymore, but being pushed by Louis' finger to keep away from his path. 

“I never needed Zayn,” he answers, pushing his ass backwards to find Louis’ fingers, that are now coated in lube. When did that happen? Is Harry starting to lose consciousness? Is this another wet dream he's going to wake with a hard-on? “Mr Tomlinson?” Harry closes his eyes, embarrassed about his own thoughts, but the words are pushed away from his mouth before he can trap them in and toss them to the back of his brain. It may be the drugs, it may be Louis’ finger pressing slowly inside him “I can’t tell if this is a dream. Can you spank me again?”

Louis’ laugh fills the room with joy for a second like his persona has faded and he's not  _ Mr Tomlinson  _ anymore, but Louis with polite words and protective eyes. 

The moment is gone when his cheek starts to sting. There's a finger inside him, two, and the spanks come with endless counting that sound like huge numbers but are probably just a few. Harry is too overwhelmed to try and find out. 

He needs Louis to ground him right now, to put his cock where it belongs and end the nightmare that his brain cells started when they decided without his consent that Louis was suddenly too much to take. 

“Louis please” he finds himself crying. His own voice brings him back a little bit. He can feel Louis fingers, how he takes them out leaving him gaping for anything to fill his body. His hole feels stretched and raw, his dick is about to explode from the friction. 

His chest is not constricted anymore. He's laying on his back, over the red shirt that's not hanging from his shoulders anymore. His legs are wide open and he can hear Louis searching around the room. Harry wants to scream at him to get back, wants to beg for the smallest touch just to know he's there. 

After a couple of seconds, he opens his eyes. Louis is so close Harry can't see anything else but his eyes. He can admit to himself for a second that he probably wouldn't see anything else but his eyes even if Louis was living in the sun. 

_ He's the sun, the whole fucking universe. So marvellous, wide and occult. I want him to swallow me whole. _

“Love, are you alright?” Harry whines as a response “Harry, baby. I can't keep going if you don't answer me, alright?”

The thing is  _ he can  _ answer. He's just afraid his feelings are going to burst out of his mouth if he dares to separate his lips.

“Just fuck me already” he blurts instead and he's never been prouder of himself. 

“That's just what I needed” the tip of his cock is brushing over Harry's hole “Do you think I've got the medicine you need?” He jokes, pushing his entire length inside him. Harry wants to ask him to fuck off, to beg for a kiss, to cry about those fucking emotions that are messing with his mind all at the same time. 

Harry is so overwhelmed he wants to scream, just scream for ages until he loses his voice and his life with it. He's definitely becoming a church boy after this. Say no to drugs. Have pizza instead.

The slams are fast and hard, getting deep into the confines of Harry's body that's moving to the rhythm over the wooden desk. His back itches and his legs are sore as Louis pushes them open to the sides of his body, his knees bent in an angle he didn't know was possible until now. 

Wet noises fill the air, filthy slaps that can only be coming from the collision between Louis’ balls and Harry's ass that is numb to every touch. He can't feel anything but the way his bosses dick pushes inside him, the smells and the noises are all he has left. 

Tingles start to form at the lowest part of his tummy, his butterfly is flying around his belly making Harry almost laugh at the sensation if it weren't for the hard push, the drastic change of rhythm. He whines involuntarily, opening his eyes in search for a body to grab and anchor himself to.

He's met with a sight that provides another bit of pre-cum to the pool that's already forming over his bellybutton. Louis' eyes are wide, wide and dark like the universe itself, darting around Harry's body like he's the most wonderful planet he ever found on his forever lasting life. 

He fucks into him relentlessly, the movements seem almost robotic when their eyes are locked so fiercely. Maybe they're just two black holes dancing around each other hoping to collide.

Harry's body apparently decides to function, his arms elevating from his body to try and reach Louis, who's too far, too close and warm and sunny, but too far at the same time. Harry thinks he's making grabby hands, but he's not sure because Louis is suddenly all over him, a pair of arms evolving his waist, making him fly as if he was a feather. 

He's on the air. He's floating while Louis moves inside him, while their chests press together and his dick gets trapped between their bellies, aching to get a release for which he needs an authorization. Harry is a good boy, he's a good boy for his daddy, for his boss, for his Louis. 

“ _ Daddy _ ” he begs, calling it out for the first time. There's no shame about it at this point, he's being carried over,  _ fucked over _ , while doing nothing but stand still and take it. Harry loves it, Harry loves Louis fingers gripping to his ass, his cock so deep inside him he swears he can feel it at the bottom of his stomach. “Can I come?” The question finally comes out of his mouth, he's not sure how much time it took for him to articulate the words. 

“Yes, baby, come for me. Will you? Can you come untouched?” He asks like there really is a possibility of Harry denying when all he's been doing for the last minutes is holding his orgasm just for him. 

Harry doesn't answer 'cause he can't, 'cause the only thing that can come out of his mouth is a ripping whimper that sounds more like a cry, while he wraps his arms even tighter around Louis’ neck and hides his face in it as his hole clenches around the dick that's still erratically pounding into him. 

He feels like he's coming for hours. 

Maybe he is. 

Maybe he's still coming while Louis tosses his loaded condom after leaving him carefully over his chair, sitting on the throne. 

Maybe he's still coming while Louis comes back with tissues, a bottle of water and a big black hoodie he puts over Harry's naked chest after cleaning the mess his fluids made. 

Maybe he's still coming while Louis picks him up, sits down himself on the chair, and pushes Harry over his lap to cuddle him to his chest. 

“How are you feeling, love?” Louis’ hand is travelling along Harry's curls. Or what's left of them after all. 

“M fine” he mumbles, making himself even smaller into Louis naked chest. Hiding his thighs and his hands inside the comfortable piece of cloth that he'll probably never return. “Tired. Pleased.”

“I sure hope so” his laugh vibrates all over Harry's body and he swears he purrs from it. He loves comfort, he loves being taken care of and it's so rare for men to do this he almost feel like crying at every caress Louis provides him. 

“Pleased I got you” he paraphrases, he's so tired he doesn't even think he can form a coherent sentence that holds more than three words. “ _ Finally. _ ” He concludes, hoping that explains everything his mind is too tired to express. 

“You were wanting this, mmm?” Louis asks and Harry can hear his cheeky smile “You are happy you got me, baby?”

“Yeah” he answers, drifting away slowly. His hands travel to Louis' chest and cuddles him closer by his small waist. He can't believe that tiny man held him in the air while fucking him, seconds, minutes, hours ago. “Want it again. So good…”

His body is numb and the air that gets through his nose is fuzzy, like a dream made of violet cotton and acid candies, like Louis’ sweat and the strength of a wild animal. His mind vagues around and his body is warm, so warm. 

“Finally, baby” he hears, far, far away. Out of his reach, in another dimension maybe, another dream “I was wanting you for so long. I'm gonna take care of you for as long as you have me. I'm yours as much as you want me to be.”

Harry is on another planet, but in every one of them, he wants Louis Tomlinson to be his.


End file.
